


Salvation is a Four Letter Word

by TristansGirl



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Past Non-Con, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl/pseuds/TristansGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That very last thing on Kris' mind that day was purchasing a new slave. And then he set eyes on Adam. And everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kris wasn’t exactly surprised when his father had told him he’d be handling the problem with Gokey. His father had been thrusting more and more responsibility on him lately, his way of preparing Kris for the inevitable day when the company would be in his, and his hands, only.

So when his father had told him that he’d set up a meeting for him tomorrow afternoon at Gokey’s estate, Kris accepted the news well enough. On the outside. On the inside, he was muttering curses and railing at the unfairness of it all.

It wasn’t that he was intimidated by the task at hand. On the contrary, he knew he could handle the negotiation. It was the fact that he’d be dealing with Danny Gokey, whom he’d always found to be a bit of a smug, self-centered prick. Definitely not the sort of person he would normally want to spend an afternoon with.

But regardless of his feelings toward the man, he showed up right on time as expected, all the right documents in hand.

It didn’t take long to settle things; he’d come prepared and Danny was surprisingly obliging. Only two hours after arriving at the house, he found himself standing up, ready to say his goodbyes and be escorted out when Danny curtailed him by insisting on a tour of the estate. Kris surreptitiously glanced at watch. He wanted nothing more than to get back home, tell his father what had happened during the meeting and work on putting the deal together. But it was early enough that he would appear rude if he begged off. He agreed, and spent the next several minutes bored out of his mind as Danny gave him the grand tour of a house he cared nothing about.

That is, until they came to the secondary courtyard.

Kris’ eyes widened as he took in the large, iron pole in the middle of the small, dusty expanse.

A punishment pole.

He’d seen them before of course, in other people’s houses. Not his own; his parents had always preferred other ways of dealing with errant slaves. It wasn’t so much the pole that had shocked him, but the fact that he’d never before seen one be used.

He found his attention focusing on the person kneeling at the base of the pole, their hands tied to it, high enough above their head that both back and shoulders appeared strained.

On closer inspection it was obviously a man; he wore no shirt, and the hard muscle and broad back couldn’t possibly belong to a woman. His head was bowed, black hair obscuring his face and leaving it a mystery.

Kris took several steps forward without even realizing he was doing so.

“Oh no. Again? What’s he done now?”

Kris stopped, turned to look at the man that Danny had been addressing. He hadn’t even noticed him there, so focused he’d been on the slave.

The man, tall and broad and seemingly built of hard muscle, stood only a few feet away from the pole, a whip held tight in one hand, its end curling lazily on the ground.

An overseer.

“He was disrespectful, sir. As always,” the man answered.

Danny offered Kris a weak smile. “I’m sorry about this. He’s my newest acquisition. I thought I was getting a great deal with him, but he’s been far more trouble than he’s worth.”

Kris didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure how to carry on a conversation with a half-naked man kneeling only a few yards away. “I . . . no . . . that’s all right.”

When Danny moved forward, Kris went as well. Now that they were closer, he could see the sweat and grim that covered the man’s back. And the lash marks. They were few, as if the punishment had just started.

“What did he do now?” Danny asked.

“What _didn’t_ he do?” the man answered. “He wouldn’t listen, got argumentative, went crazy and attacked me.”

Danny shook his head, sighing out the name, “Adam”. Kris couldn’t read the emotion there, couldn’t tell if Danny was angry or frustrated or disappointed. Maybe all three?

And then the slave, Adam, lifted his head, and fixed his gaze on Danny, finally affording Kris a view of his face.

Kris had expected Adam to look broken and wounded. The look that any man’s face would hold when he was being tied and beaten. But that was not what he saw on Adam’s face. He saw instead a fierce pride, an intensity radiating from blue eyes that bordered on scorching.

“Don’t you want to hear my side of it?” Adam asked. “Master?” That last word was spit out with enough contempt that it felt like a physical blow. Kris found himself stepping back even though it hadn’t been directed at him. “Don’t you want to hear how your overseer was hurting Allison?” he continued. “How she was begging for him to stop after he dragged her behind the stables and how -”

“Shut up!” the overseer shouted. “Shut your lying, filthy mouth!” His backhand came fast and hard, jerking Adam’s head to the side, silencing him.

Next to him, Danny made a small sound of disgust. “And to think I paid money for this.” He looked to his overseer. “Take care of it, but for God’s sake, don’t flay him alive. Last time he was out of commission for days.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kris felt a hand at his elbow, urging him onward, but he resisted it. “You know, there’s other ways of punishing slaves that don’t leave long-lasting damage,” he said.

“What? Those punishment rods? The overseer will use those too. But I’m old-fashioned. I like the old standards. Besides,” Danny said, leaning in toward Kris as if he had a secret to impart. “He puts on a brave front, but he’s terrified of that thing.” He pulled away and smiled. “Come on, we’ll finish the tour.”

Kris nodded, too chilled by Danny’s words to do much but follow.

Even so, he couldn’t resist one last look back. What he saw made him wish he hadn’t - there was Adam, with his head still held high, his gaze focused firmly on Kris as if he’d been waiting for this moment, waiting patiently for him to turn.

That and the overseer lifting the whip into motion.


	2. Chapter 2

“I found him at an auction a few months ago,” Danny was saying as they neared the entrance of the mansion. “I thought I’d hit the jackpot. I mean, you saw him - strong enough for physical labor, but pretty enough for a bed slave. Best of both worlds, right?”

 _Bed slave._

Kris should have known. It was quite common to take attractive slaves into bed and Adam was definitely that. It was a practice that he himself had never indulged in, preferring partners that gave themselves to him because they wanted to, not because they had to.

“I suppose,” he muttered.

“Not even close,” Danny said, continuing on as if Kris’ response had been enthusiastic. “He’s been up for punishment more times than I can count. Sure, he can work and he’s a good fuck, but he’s also stubborn, mouthy, obstinate . . . ” He stopped, looked uneasy and laughed. “But you don’t want to hear all that, do you?”

Normally, the answer to that question would have been a resounding no. Kris had little interest in anything relating to Danny Gokey and usually felt that what happened between a man and his property was his own business. But in this instance, he had to admit to being intrigued. In truth, he couldn’t get the image of Adam’s face out of his head; the determination and strength he saw in those classic features seemed imprinted into his brain.

Feigning only casual interest, Kris shrugged and asked, “You take him to bed when he’s as disobedient as you say? Aren’t you afraid that he’ll turn on you?”

“Hurting me would be a death sentence. He’s disobedient and disrespectful. He’s not stupid.”

Kris nodded mildly, while his mind worked in overdrive. The thought of Danny putting his hands on Adam bothered him more than he knew it should. The thought of Adam being punished for helping Allison, whoever she was, bothered him more than it should. All of this bothered him more than it should . . . Adam was nothing to him, he was here to do a job, the job was done, he just needed to get home and . . .

And apparently none of that mattered, because before Kris could stop himself, he was opening his mouth and saying, “You know, I could take him off your hands for you.”

Danny froze, and looked at Kris as if he’d suggested that they both set themselves on fire. “What?”

But now that he’d said it, Kris realized that this is what he’d wanted all along, since the second he’d set eyes on Adam. “I’d be willing to buy him. You said yourself, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

Danny crossed his arms, a glint of suspicion in his eyes. “So why would you want him then?”

“Maybe I like a challenge.”

Danny choked out a laugh. “Well, if you like a challenge, then you’ll love Adam.”

“So what do you say?”

Danny didn’t answer right away, either thinking about the offer or making a show of thinking about it. “I say . . . fifty thousand and he’s yours,” he said at last.

The price was high - much too high for someone as allegedly problematic as Adam was and they both knew it.

“Thirty,” Kris countered, despite knowing that that was too low.

“You know, I could put him on the market and easily get fifty thousand.”

“Sure, but this way you get rid of him today. No more headaches and you’re free to get someone you actually want.”

“Make it forty thousand and you’ve yourself a deal, Mr. Allen.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five, hm?” Again, Danny stretched out the moment, almost as if he knew how badly Kris’ insides were twisting with the suspense. “Yeah, all right. I guess I can live with thirty-five.”

“Great,” Kris said, careful not to let his relief be too obvious. “And, um . . . I’ll take him home now.”

“Now? But . . . the payment. And the ownership papers need to be transferred and filed . . . ”

Kris withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. “I can have the money into your account in five minutes. And my father can have the ownership transfer expedited. It can all be legally complete by tomorrow.”

Kris waited to see if Danny would argue. Not that it mattered. He had already decided that Adam wasn’t staying here another night. But Danny was nothing if not sensible. He unclipped his own phone from his belt and punched one of the keys.

“Riggs. You done with Adam?”

Kris couldn’t hear the response, but watched as Danny nodded. “Finish it up. Then get him to his room. I’ll meet you there.”

Clipping the phone back on his belt, Danny smiled. “Give me twenty minutes. Someone will be out with my account information for the money transfer. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wait felt more like twenty hours than twenty minutes and Kris found that the longer he waited, the more he wondered if he wasn’t getting in over his head. While his family had always owned slaves, he personally had never owned one, and certainly not one that had a reputation for being difficult. As the minutes stretched on, he wondered if he was even up to the task. What would he do if Adam was as disobedient as Danny claimed? He couldn’t imagine ever being as harsh as what he had seen today, but then again he’d never been faced with someone who was insolent or difficult before either.

Just then a flurry of motion derailed his train of thought. He looked up to see Danny and the overseer, Riggs, approaching. Behind them were about seven or eight people; the telltale collar around their necks told him they were slaves.

And in the midst of it all was Adam, large, black duffle bag in hand, looking very tall and imposing now that he was standing at his full height and not kneeling in the dirt.

Adam moved slowly, his gait stiff, as if it pained him to walk. Kris recalled the lashes on his back, and wondered how many more had been administered before Danny had put an end to it. There was a small, new bruise alongside his mouth, his lower lip split and puffy from where the overseer had struck him earlier. He looked pale, face blank and inscrutable, as if he were wearing a mask.

To Kris he looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Say whatever goodbyes you need to say, Adam, but be quick. I’m sure your new master here wants to get you home.”

Adam nodded and turned, placing the duffle bag on the floor before walking to his fellow slaves.

Kris watched as they each went up to him in turn, watched as they each exchanged parting words and embraces. He noticed how gentle they were with him, how careful they were not to touch his back, how their hands fluttered around his face, fingertips brushing against his hair as if he were very fragile.

Until the last one - the girl.

She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, with flaming red hair and large dark eyes. She exhibited none of the care that the others had. She grabbed onto Adam, clutching him tight to her, fingers scrabbling for hold on the back of his shirt. It had to have hurt, and Kris winced in sympathy just watching, but Adam didn’t seem to care. He held onto her just as desperately, albeit it more gently, and leaned down to her.

“You can’t go. You can’t go,” she said, her voice trembling and thick with tears.

“Allie. Come on. Hey . . . ” He pulled away from her slightly and crouched down just enough to be at her eye level.

This had to be Allison, the girl that Adam had helped. The one he had risked punishment for.

“Look at me. It’s going to be ok. I promise. Remember what I told you, ok? Just remember what I told you and you’ll be fine. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

And then Adam pulled her in for one last embrace, his cheek against hers, his mouth over her ear. Kris could see his lips moving, but whatever the message was, it was for her and her alone.

When they pulled apart, Adam wiped at his own eyes and asked, “Ok?”

She nodded, hugging her arms close to her body, not bothering with wiping away her own tears. “Ok,” she said, shaky as hell, clearly just managing to keep it together.

They gave each other weak smiles before Adam picked up his duffel bag and finally turned to Kris.

“Thank you, sir.” His voice was soft but steady. “I’m ready now.”

“Danny,” Kris said, eyes still glued to Adam.

“Yeah?”

Kris sighed and pulled his phone back from his pocket. “How much for the girl?”


	3. Chapter 3

Getting Allison proved to be harder than getting Adam. Danny had no real issues with her, and he wasn’t thrilled about parting her. The price they finally settled on was fair, but it was more than Kris had in his own accounts. Despite hating to have to do it, he’d finally ended up calling his father and asking for some of the family’s funds.

It was nearly an hour later before Kris was back in his car, finally ready to head home with Allison and Adam in the backseat. He glanced at them in the rearview mirror as he started the car and edged it forward, taking in how closely they were sitting, the way that Adam’s arm was slung protectively over Allison’s shoulder.

Bringing his attention back to the road, he drove them through the gates of Danny’s estate and down a couple of streets until he found a safe place to pull over.

Placing the car in park, he turned in the seat to face them, opened his mouth to speak . . . and faltered. What was he supposed to say? He had no idea what one said to new slaves. He’d certainly never been present when his father had brought someone home and he probably wouldn’t have cared even if he had been.

To make matters worse, he found that being this close to Adam was extremely distracting. He kept getting lost in small details he hadn’t noticed earlier; the sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, the contrast of his lashes against the paleness of his skin. How his eyes shone gray in the waning light.

It took everything he had not to reach out and brush his hand against Adam’s cheek to see if his skin felt as soft as it looked. The urge was overpowering and primal and frightening all at once and he found the only way to control it was to tuck his hand under his arm to trap it.

“Ok,” he said, pleased to find that his voice sounded neither desperate nor wanting. “So . . . now that we’re away from Gokey . . . my name’s Kris. Kris Allen. And I guess I’m your new ma -”

He stopped there, not wanting to throw that word at them now. “Well, you’re with me now.”

He paused to gauge their reactions, but they were almost nonexistent. Allison merely stared at him while Adam gave only the briefest of nods.

It was a little unnerving, but then again it was the appropriate response. He hadn’t asked either of them a question.

“All right, well. Before we go home, Adam, I need to know if I need to take you to a clinic.”

“I’m sorry?” Adam asked, clearly confused.

“For your back,” Kris clarified.

Adam’s gaze slid away, becoming furtive and secret. “No, thank you, sir. I’m fine.”

“You were just whipped. How can you be fine?”

Flashing a humorless smile, Adam said, “That whip is designed not to break the skin. Unless you really work at it. Things didn’t get that far this time.”

 _This time._

“So, you don’t need a doctor?”

“He might not need a doctor,” Allison said, cutting in. “But he’s still in a lot of pain.”

Adam turned his head toward her. “Allie . . .”

The warning in his voice was clear enough, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “But it’s true! He almost always throws up afterward because the pain’s so bad, sir.”

“Allison!” Adam hissed.

“What?”

Kris sat back, watching the interplay between them with interest. It seemed that it was Adam’s pride preventing him from admitting that he was hurt, even when it was so obvious.

He figured that asking Adam outright about the pain would result in a lie. Guessing that Adam wouldn’t place Allison in a vulnerable position, Kris tried another tactic.

“Is Allison lying, Adam?”

That seemed to do the trick. Adam looked uncomfortable, and he wouldn’t meet either his or Allison’s gaze. “I . . . ”

“Is she lying?” Kris pressed.

The sigh that spilled from Adam’s lips was laced with defeat. “No, sir. No . . . she’s not.”

Feeling both triumphant and guilty at having wrenched it from him, Kris turned back around in his seat and started up the car. “All right.” He let his voice soften. “That’s all I needed to know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam sat silent as Kris drove them through the city and into the parking lot of a small drugstore, leaving them with an order to stay where they were until he got back.

Adam had nodded, then watched as Kris walked to the store, kept watching long after he had gone inside, all the while trying to make sense of what was happening.

He knew that Allison had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase, and he was fairly certain that he had been as well. There was no way that Gokey would have missed the opportunity to torment them about being sold to a new master.

He also knew, or at least felt fairly sure, that buying Allison had been incidental. Kris hadn’t wanted Allison and yet he’d paid good money for her. This was what confused him the most. He understood why Kris had bought him - the want in his eyes had been transparent enough - and that he could deal with because it was at least familiar. But Allison . . . Allison didn’t quite fit into the equation. And least not in any way that he could see.

And this, above all else, made him extremely nervous.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the feel of her hand, small and tentative, against his leg.

“Don’t be mad.”

He blinked and turned and any irritation he was feeling evaporated as soon as he saw her face. “Oh, honey. I’m not mad at you. It’s just . . . remember what I told you about weaknesses?”

She nodded solemnly and recited the words as if she’d learned them in school. “Never let them see any because they’ll use them against you.”

Mere moments later, her eyes grew wide as if she’d just realized what she’d said. “Oh, no. Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Really.” He brought his arm around her shoulders, hiding the wince that the movement produced. He could never stay upset with Allison. “I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it hurts. He already knew.”

She snuggled in closer to him, melding her body against his. “You should have just let it happen.”

“What?”

“Riggs. You should have just let him . . . ”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he said, somehow bringing her in even closer. “Just don’t.”

He didn’t tell her that he would have done it a hundred times over. That he would have taken all that punishment and more to keep her safe. He didn’t need to.

“What do you think he’s like?” she asked after a while.

“Who? Our new master?”

“Yeah.”

Adam relaxed against her, his head coming to rest atop hers. “Just like all the rest. They always are.”

“Maybe he’ll be different. He’s cute. He seems like he’ll be different.”

“Allie . . . cute doesn’t equal nice.”

“But he could be.”

Adam found he didn’t have the strength to argue. Not this time. He’d been trying to teach Allison about the way things worked, about the system and how to survive within it, since Gokey had brought her home four months ago. But there were times, like now, that it was hard to take on that role. He couldn’t always be teacher and protector, just like she couldn’t always be his student.

Sometimes, he just had to step back, be her friend, and let her have her hope. Even when he knew it was false.

“Yeah, maybe he could be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris walked back to the car to find Adam and Allison curled up against each other, looking more like a young couple in love than the pair of slaves he’d just bought. The stab of jealousy that followed was hard and sharp; a knife lodged in his gut.

He knew it was irrational and he had no reason to feel it, yet he couldn’t stop himself from slamming the door shut or tossing the small, paper bag at them with more force than was necessary.

“The pharmacist said this stuff is the best. For the pain,” he said.

He was facing Allison when he spoke, but watching Adam from the corner of his eye. “Go ahead and put it on him.”

“Now?” she asked.

He twisted around to face the road. “It’s a thirty minute drive home. There’s no point in him being in pain.”

With that, he started the car and drove back into traffic, all the while telling himself that there was no reason to feel this way.

And no need to take it out on the steering wheel. With a wry smile, he relaxed his death grip on it and rolled his shoulders to try to loosen some of the tension in his body.

He told himself that it didn’t matter if he’d misread Adam and Allison’s relationship. He hadn’t bought Adam for that.

But telling himself was one thing. Believing was another.

Especially when a glimpse into the rearview mirror revealed Adam’s face, soft and childlike in sleep, lips parted like an invitation.


	4. Chapter 4

“What in the world where you thinking?”

Kris looked across the room at his father and thought about how to answer that question. They were in his father’s study, and as always, his father sat behind his massive desk like some sort of god. It was disconcerting, to feel like a small child again, and it made thinking of appropriate responses all that much harder.

“So . . . you’re angry?” he ventured.

“No, Kris. I’m not angry. I just want to know what you were thinking. Two slaves? You’ve never given any indication that you wanted even one. Now you come home with two?”

Not angry then. But definitely frustrated and irritated.

“Well, see, it was kind of a package deal,” Kris began, mildly surprised at how the ease in which the lie slipped from his tongue. “I only wanted one, but Danny wouldn’t sell that way, so . . .”

“Which one did you want, Kris?” his mother asked. She was sitting toward the corner, silent up until now, so quiet that Kris had almost forgotten she was there.

“Um . . . Adam. I wanted Adam.”

“The boy?”

“He’s not really a boy, mom. I think he’s older than I am.”

“You wanted Adam?” his father asked. “As what, a bed slave?”

“What? No!”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Kris. He’s attractive. It’s all right to indulge every once in a while.”

“Dad, really. Can we not have this conversation? And anyway, I didn’t pick him because I was looking for someone to sleep with.”

“Then why did you pick him?”

And that, Kris knew, was the million-dollar question. The true answer was that he had wanted Adam. He had seen him, and he had wanted him, and he had somehow known that walking away without him would be a lifelong regret. It was as simple and as complicated as that. And there was no way that he could ever possibly explain that to his parents.

He finally shrugged and said, “I’m going to be moving out soon, I figured I should have someone. You’ve been bugging me about it for years, Dad.”

“That’s true, but . . . now? I don’t even know where we’re going to put them.”

Kris didn’t have an answer for that one. Even on the drive over, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Steven,” his mother said, standing up to address her husband. “Why don’t we take the girl? Technically we paid for her, and we could use one more hand in the kitchen. We may have to rearrange a few things, but I’m sure we could find her a place to sleep.”

His father steepled his fingers together, a sure sign that he was thinking. After a few moments, he sighed loudly and Kris knew that the news would be good. “Well, I guess we could. She is already here. But what about the boy?”

“He can stay in Kris’ guest room,” his mother answered. She turned around, giving Kris a very faint wink, before turning back to Kris’ father. Kris wondered if he hadn’t imagined it, but the faint heat spreading over his face told him it had been real.

“You don’t use it much, do you, Kris?” she asked.

“No, I hardly ever do. Adam could stay there.”

And with that, much to Kris’ immeasurable relief, the matter was settled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They found Adam and Allison where they had left them, sitting on the sofa in the parlor, hands clasped and knees touching.

Kris’ mother gently pried them apart, taking Allison by the hand and escorting her away with the kind smile that always managed to put everyone at ease.

Kris would have liked to have offered the same to Adam, but the flash in the other man’s eyes told him it would not be welcome.

Instead he indicated, with a nod and a tilt of his head, that Adam was to rise and follow him.

He led Adam through the house, pointing out the areas that he would need to know. And although he wasn’t usually one to flaunt how well-off he was, he had to admit to enjoying the way that Adam’s eyebrows rose whenever they passed something particularly impressive.

Kris had grown up here, from a small child to the adult he was now. To him the estate was home, but he recognized how large and imposing it could be, especially to someone seeing it for the first time. It made Danny Gokey’s mansion look small and shabby by comparison and Kris could guess that Adam had never seen anything like it in his life.

After the house tour, Kris led Adam outside and through the large, manicured gardens that made up their “backyard”. Following a winding stone path, they eventually came upon a small cottage tucked away behind an iron gate. This was Kris’ sanctuary. His home.

And now it would be Adam’s.

He guided Adam through its living room and kitchen, showing him where the two bathrooms were and indicating which room was his own. They then walked directly across the hall, to the room that would now become Adam’s.

“And this is your room,” he said as they stepped inside.

“This?”

The reaction was strange, making it hard to reconcile this Adam with the one he had first seen only hours ago. That Adam had seemed strong and wild, almost feral. This one looked uncertain, just on the edge of nervous. It made him seem fragile and somehow small.

“Is something wrong with it?”

“It’s just . . . it’s really big.”

Yes, Kris thought, there was definitely something wrong here. And because he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, he ignored it, continuing to point out things that were obvious and didn’t require it.

“Um . . . the closet’s there. The dresser. The tv.”

Adam barely glanced at the closet or dresser, but he stared at the tv as if it were a foreign object, which Kris figured, it might as well be to him. Of course Adam had seen television sets before, but he’d likely never had one to himself.

Kris opened his mouth, ready to try and quell the tension with more babble about the room when Adam finally turned away from tv, focusing all his attention on Kris.

Kris sighed, knowing it was time, that he’d been stalling. It was time for the big speech; the one where he laid out all his expectations and rules for Adam, the one where he asserted himself as his master. This was the moment he’d been dreading since he’d shaken Danny’s hand over the deal.

“Adam, sit. Please.”

Adam did, but immediately turned his gaze to the window. In profile, he looked sharp, severe.

“Listen, Adam, the reason I bought you . . . the reason you’re here . . . ”

“Because you want to fuck me,” Adam said in a hollow voice, face still turned away.

“What?”

Adam faced him now, eyebrows raised. “Too blunt?”

“I . . . ”

“I could tell by the way you looked at me in the courtyard.” Voice darkening, he added, “I can always tell.”

Almost against his will, Kris could feel his defenses rising. “You flatter yourself.”

Adam chuckled, cruel and cold. “Right. No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Kris’ mind reeled from how quickly he had lost control of the conversation. “You know, Danny said you were disrespectful . . . ”

“Gokey?” And again there was that mocking chuckle. “Gokey never got it. He never figured it out.”

“What?”

Shrugging, Adam shifted his gaze to the ground.

“Never figured what out?”

But Adam was staying stubbornly silent.

“Adam. Answer me.” It was a command now, harsh because he was frustrated and because he needed to reign this in somehow before it completely spiraled into disaster.

“Fine,” Adam spit out, a little too loudly. “I don’t like to bow and scrape to people that are my supposed superiors, when they clearly aren’t.”

Shocked, Kris could only think to stutter out, “You need to watch what you say.”

“Or what? A punishment rod? Or do you prefer the standards like Gokey?”

And right then and there, Kris was given a glimpse into what Danny had been talking about. And although he considered himself an easy-going guy, tolerant and forgiving, all he felt at this moment was the heat of wild anger. He wanted to hit Adam, hard enough to make that smug look on his face disappear, hard enough to make it hurt, to imprint the mark of it on Adam’s skin.

And he probably would have, he probably would have done that all that and more, he was already moving forward, hands curled into fists when he saw it.

A flicker of emotion in Adam’s eyes, a subtle change to his face. Fear maybe, or alarm. Whatever it was, it was enough to stop Kris cold, the anger still curling in his stomach, held in check through sheer force of will.

“These quarters are your responsibility,” he said, and to his own ears his voice was that of a stranger’s. “Every inch of them will be immaculate. You will tend to the garden. You will do my laundry. You will cook if I don’t feel like leaving for meals. You will not go into my room unless given express permission by me. You can have your meals in the common area along with the other slaves, but you will come back here immediately afterward. You cater to me. And you will watch your fucking tone. Do you understand?”

The silence was tense, thick and suffocating to the point where Kris could feel it a struggle to breathe. He waited, though it was tempting to push it further.

When the answer finally came it was almost anticlimactic. Just a soft, “Yes, sir,” followed by a slightly stronger, “Master.”

“Good. Now, put your stuff away and get down to dinner. Then get some rest. You look like shit. You can start in the morning.”

And with that he stalked out of the room and into his own, slamming the door shut behind him for good measure. He slumped against it and ran his hands over his face, while the excess adrenaline shook his body as it searched for an outlet of escape.

That was most definitely not how he had expected things to go. He barked out a rueful laugh as he recalled his assertion to Danny that he enjoyed a challenge.

It seemed that his words were coming back to haunt him.

Adam was most definitely a challenge.

He looked down at his still trembling hands and wondered if he was up to it.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day found Kris sitting in his office in the main house, rubbing the spot where the last remnants of his earlier headache still resided.

After his failed talk with Adam, he’d met up with some of his friends and proceeded to hit some of the bars in the area. Hard. Alcohol as anger management. It had worked for the most part. He’d simply been too drunk to stay angry.

Afterward he’d come home and passed out on his bed, too far gone to even see if Adam was in his.

But what had seemed like a good idea last night was now a regret. Despite calling in to work, sleeping most of the day away and popping ibuprofen when he could manage to open his eyes, he still felt the lingering pain of his hangover; the accompanying rush of nausea when he moved too fast.

Still, he was determined to ignore all the discomfort, because here in front of him, sent via express only minutes ago, were the files of both Allison and Adam.

He hadn’t expected to be nervous for something so simple and yet there it was. The tingle of butterflies in his stomach, the shaking anticipation in his fingers as he opened first Allison’s file - all there.

Not surprisingly hers was sparse. According to the documents, she’d only been sold a few months ago, shortly after turning fifteen. He read through the rest of the file, noting that she had done well in training and showed an aptitude for cooking. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else. Danny had been her only owner and he hadn’t bothered adding much to the records.

He closed her file and moved onto Adam’s, headache all but forgotten as the butterflies in his stomach started to dance. He started with the statistics page, but there was nothing there that he didn’t already know or couldn’t guess at; things like Adam’s height and weight or his hair and eye color. He moved onto Adam’s background. Like Allison, he’d been sold by his parents into the system when he was fifteen. He was twenty-five now, which meant that he’d spent a full decade as a slave.

He looked further down the page, noting that Adam had received exceptional marks in training; excelling in just about everything. He’d then spent almost six years with his first master, until the man’s death, never once receiving even one black mark on his record. It was after being sold to his second owner that the problems started. Four owners in as many years and all had reported behavioral issues. After that, Adam’s record became one large, black stain.

Kris set aside the files, rubbing his temple although he was no longer cognizant of any pain. After what Danny had told him and what he himself had experienced last night, the knowledge that Adam really was difficult was almost anticlimactic.

What struck him, more than anything else he’d read, what he kept coming back to, was their age.

Fifteen. They’d both been fifteen.

At fifteen, he’d been trying to get to third base with Katy Howard, drinking beers with friends behind the football field and struggling with algebra.

At fifteen, Allison and Adam were having their lives ripped apart.

He had learned about slavery in school. He’d read the history books, heard the lectures and taken the tests. He knew about the Great Depression, how it had stretched on for almost two decades. He knew about the suicides, the violence. How, in desperation, people had started to sell their children to the wealthy few in the dim hope that at least they’d be clothed and fed. How, once started, the practice flourished, even once the economy stabilized.

Slavery was a fact of life, one he was familiar with, one which he had never questioned. It had certainly never bothered him.

But now he couldn’t stop the number fifteen from flashing in his mind. Maybe, he thought, things were different because he had chosen Allison and Adam. Because he had bought them and they were his.

Regardless of the reason, the protectiveness he felt toward them was fierce. They were his and he was going to make this work - one way or the other.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow.”

That seemed to be the only appropriate word for the cleaning frenzy that appeared to be taking place in Kris’ home.

Adam sauntered in from the kitchen. Easily intuiting what Kris was referring to, he said, “I believe you said immaculate.”

“Did I? I guess maybe I did.”

“There’s still a lot to do. The place was a mess. Sir.”

The sir was tacked on and just on the verge of snide, but Kris, determined to achieve peace, let it pass. “Well, you know . . . bachelor,” he said by way of explanation. Then he paused, sniffing the air as if he hadn’t already noticed that there was food cooking.

“Something smells good.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here for dinner.” Adam shrugged. “I took a shot and made it anyway. It’s almost ready.”

“Good. We can talk while we eat.”

Adam nodded and headed back into the kitchen, leaving Kris to marvel at his newly transformed, very tidy, living room.

By the time Kris sat down at the table a few minutes later, Adam was already serving. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I figured pasta was safe.”

“Pasta’s great, yeah. And I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything.”

“I’m going to need a little bit more than that. What you like, what you don’t, anything you’re allergic to . . . ”

Kris made a vague mental note to make some kind of list for Adam. He could have done it right then and there; he really wasn’t picky and wasn’t allergic to anything, but just like before, being in such close proximity to Adam was making it a little hard to concentrate.

He watched while Adam loaded his own plate, pausing as a look of confusion came over his face. “I’m not sure where I’m supposed to . . . ” Adam said, glancing around.

“Eat here with me.”

“On the floor?” Adam asked, and he looked and sounded so scandalized that it was all Kris could do not to laugh.

“No. Here at the table.”

Adam quickly recovered, features softening until they were completely neutral. It was a little like watching a magic trick, seeing how effortlessly the mask could be slipped on. “It’s not proper for a slave to eat at the table with his master.”

“I don’t see anyone around that’s going to tell on us.”

And there it was, the smallest slip of the mask. A smile. Tentative and brief but it had been there. It was, Kris thought, a minor victory.

He waited until Adam was seated across from him and they’d both tucked in before speaking. “I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, Adam. I want to try again. Try to start fresh.”

“Oh?”

Kris took a deep breath and launched into the spiel he’d been practicing since leaving the main house. “Listen, I have my reasons for buying you and Allison. And they’ll remain that way. My reasons. But I can tell you this - I did not bring you here to be a bed slave. That’s not what I want from you.”

Dropping his gaze, Adam dug into his food with ferocity. “Ok. Fine.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I like my partners willing, Adam.”

Adam’s head shot back up, eyes flashing. “Willing is a relative concept when you’re a slave, sir.”

There was no reason to argue when Adam was right. “Yeah, fair enough,” Kris said, ceding the point. “But I’m not that guy. You’ll see that.”

Adam merely nodded before turning his attention back to his plate. It was a dismissal of sorts, but Kris couldn’t blame him. It would take more than words to convince Adam that he wouldn’t use him like Danny had. It would take patience and a fair amount of self-control, because if Kris was finally being honest with himself, the thought of Adam in his bed was not an unwelcome one.

Pushing the idea of it from his mind, Kris continued. “As for the attitude . . . you know what you said last night was really out of line.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but you ordered me to. Remember?”

“Right. Because you got no enjoyment out of that at all.”

Another break in the mask, another smile. It was a sly one this time, skirting the edges of wicked. “Maybe a little.”

“Anybody else would have punished you. Severely.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Punish me. Severely. You wanted to, so why didn’t you?”

“My parents have never used corporal punishment. I wasn’t raised that way and I don’t believe in it.”

“Ah. _Progressive_ slave owners.”

“Adam . . . ” Kris warned.

Adam held up one hand in surrender. “Fine. Sorry.”

“Anyway, the point is, you were out of line. Obviously but . . . I do think I overreacted. So here’s the new deal. I don’t expect you to be here 24/7 working all the time. This isn’t a prison. So, yeah, I expect the place to be clean and the meals cooked. Everything I said last night. But unless I need you, the nights are your own.”

It was a strange thing, to say all these things and have Adam’s face remain such a blank slate. It was like talking to a wall. Still, Kris forged forward. “And . . . I don’t expect you to bow and scrape to me for anything. I don’t need that from you. All I want is simple respect.”

He paused, giving Adam a moment to take it all in. “So, how does that sound?”

“Honestly?” he asked, and Kris quickly nodded. “It sounds too good to be true.”

“Well, then,” Kris said as he pushed away from the table. “I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

That seemed to signify the end of the meal, as Adam pushed away from the table as well. “Should I clear, sir?”

Kris nodded, suppressing a sigh. He’d said what he wanted to say, but he had no way to gauge how things had gone. Adam was so closed, a mystifying enigma that he simply could not read.

Adam stood, bending over the table to reach Kris’ plate. He winced as he straightened, biting off a pained gasp.

“Are you ok?” Kris asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“It’s your back, isn’t it? Oh man, I totally forgot.”

“No. It’s fine. It barely hurts.”

Kris stood. “Bullshit.” He reached forward, grabbing Adam by the wrist, and steered him to the couch. To his credit, Adam didn’t protest, didn’t even try to pull away. “Let me see it,” he said.

“No, really it’s --”

“Adam, take off your shirt. Now.”

For a brief moment, Kris was certain that Adam would refuse. But then he shifted his body, presenting his back to Kris, and slipped the shirt over his head.

Kris wasted no time in jogging over to the bathroom, grabbing the ointment and jogging back. He sat on the couch behind Adam and unscrewed the cap on the tube, getting ready to squeeze it out onto his hands when he looked up.

And froze.

“Oh, God.”

He’d caught a glimpse of Adam’s back at Danny’s, but this was the first time that he was truly seeing it. The red, angry welts from yesterday’s flogging were loathsome enough, but that wasn’t what was currently making Kris’ stomach churn. It was all the other marks that crossed Adam’s broad back. Some were mere pale ghosts of lashes, obviously older. Some were newer, stretching across the skin and puckering it like a poison.

It was a roadmap of pain, each lash mark a testament to suffering.

From a distant place, almost as if the voice were coming through a vortex, he could hear Adam saying, “Not so pretty back there, am I?”

“Who did this to you?”

Adam turned his head, catching Kris’ eye. “Does it matter?”

Kris ignored the question and squeezed the ointment on his hands, letting his fingers skim across the lines etched into Adam’s skin. He was gentle, more than he needed to be. Even so, the sharp intake of breath from Adam spoke volumes.

“Were they earned?” Kris asked.

“And if I said yes?”

Kris sighed, letting the subject drop, and concentrated on spreading the ointment. As he worked, his eyes caught sight of Adam’s slave collar, black leather against white skin, and his fingers settled on it, brushing against it. He shuddered as what felt like a surge of electric current ran through his body. He pulled away, fingers still tingling. It was tempting to think about what that meant, but easier not to, so the thought was buried.

He sat back when he finished, waiting for a sign to indicate that the pain was lessening. In anything however, Adam seemed to be growing more tense, the lines of his body tightening to the point where it looked as if all of Adam’s muscles had locked into place.

The realization was a little slow in coming, stealthy in how it snuck up on him. It was only a guess really, but somehow Kris knew. Adam was half-naked in front of him, vulnerable and waiting. Waiting to be touched. Or hurt. Or both.

He stood up, circling Adam until he was in his line of sight. “Feel better?” he asked.

He knew he’d been right when he saw the tension leaching out of Adam’s body.

Adam nodded, slipping the shirt back over his head. “Yes.” And then, as if in afterthought, he added, “Thank you.”

And then he stood, swaying only slightly before gaining his footing.

“Where are you going?” Kris asked.

“The dishes. They’re not gonna wash themselves.”

“Leave them. They can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you go lie down? Watch some tv?”

Adam narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. You did a lot today. You’re probably exhausted.”

Adam bowed his head and scuffed his shoe against the carpet; an uncertain little boy in a man’s body. “Well . . . I am tired but . . . you said the nights are my own?”

“I did, yes.”

“Could I go up to the main house instead?”

“To be with Allison?” Kris guessed.

Adam finally raised his head, a challenge clear in his eyes, as if daring Kris to mock or deny him.

But Kris would do neither. “Sure. Go,” he said. “They’ll probably still be working, so make sure to keep out of their way. Their lights out is at eleven. Watch the time.”

Adam nodded, already moving to the door. “Ok,” he said. Then as an afterthought, always an afterthought with Adam, he added, “Thank you, sir.”

Kris acknowledged him with a nod of his own before plopping down on the couch. There he sat, long after the door had slammed shut behind Adam, staring at his hands, imagining he could still feel the lines of Adam’s back underneath his fingers.


	6. Chapter 6

Of all the things Adam had come to despise about his life, night was the worst.

It was at night that the overseers came for him, lascivious smiles on their faces as they escorted him to his master’s bed because they _knew_. They knew what was about to happen, and it provided them with unlimited amusement that he could do nothing to stop it.

It was at night that the walls of protection that he had so carefully constructed, brick by painstaking brick, crumbled. Doubt would creep in, followed by hurt, growing into anger, then suffocating sadness.

And it was at night that the dreams came. Terrors. Because it wasn’t enough that the dark edges of him had to plague him when he was awake, they had to sneak into his subconscious as well, growing and mutating and turning so grotesque that the only way to deal with them was to scream himself awake.

Sometimes he dreamed of hands. Hands that would pinch and pull and tear and take, all without any regard to him. The hands did not care and he did not matter.

Sometimes he would dream of Allison, broken like a negligent child’s doll, turning accusatory eyes to him and demanding to know why had failed to protect her.

And sometimes, like now, he would dream of his mother. His mother with her hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks, so very much like her real self those last few years. And his mother would tell him how she didn’t want him, how she had never wanted him. And he would cry from how badly it hurt - worse than any physical pain, worse than any whip, worse than the hands - to hear those words from her. And he would reach out to her, though he could never touch her, and he would beg.

 _Mom, please. I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. Please, I’ll be better._

He could hear himself, the desperation in his voice, and he didn’t care. He needed to make her see how sorry he was, to make her believe it so that he could stay.

“I’ll be better. Please, I’ll be better.”

“Adam. Hey, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

He felt hands on his shoulders and he threw himself forward, grateful when he was caught in open arms, grateful when they closed around him.

“Mom . . . ”

“Sh . . . it’s ok. You have to wake up now. Come on, you have to wake up.”

But he already was. He was already crossing that line between dreams and wakefulness when he realized that those were not his mother’s arms surrounding him and that it was not his mother’s voice that was whispering against his ear.

In an instant he was fully awake and pulling away from the hold, scrambling backward until he collided with the headboard behind him.

“Whoa, hey. It’s ok. It’s just me.”

Feeling vulnerable in the inky blackness and shapeless shadows, the words did little to reassure Adam. He rubbed at his eyes, praying that they would adjust to the darkness. He needed his equilibrium back, needed to anchor himself somehow.

“Master?” he whispered, and his voice sounded small and scared, everything that he always tried so hard not to be.

From out of the dark, much closer than he would have anticipated, came Kris’ voice. “Yeah. It’s me. Hang on, ok?”

He waited, wrapping his arms around himself, tempted to draw up the covers to his chin as if they would offer any sort of protection. A moment later, the light came on, so blindingly bright that he had to shield his eyes from its glare.

“I’ll be right back.”

And then Kris was gone and Adam was alone. He placed his hand against his chest, felt the triphammer of his heart against his rib cage. He needed for it to slow down, but it wouldn’t. He knew that part of it was residual from the dream, but the other part was plain, simple fear. The first time with a new master was always the worst - expectations were not yet defined and the potential for things to go wrong was too high.

Moments later, Kris walked back into the room, a small glass of water in his hands. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held it out to Adam.

“Here, drink this.”

Adam’s hands tightened around the glass and he brought it to his lips, dismayed to find that he was shaking. He managed to drink some of it, sighing in gratitude as the cool liquid slid down his throat.

He took his time with it and by the time he lowered the glass to his lap he felt steadier, more in control, more able to handle whatever was about to happen. “You were in my room?” he asked.

Kris nodded. “I heard you. It sounded like you were having a nightmare, so I came in to check.”

Adam prided himself on reading people, a skill necessary for survival as a slave. What he saw on Kris’ face surprised him. There was nothing predatory in Kris’ gaze, no want or desire at all. There was only, strangely enough, concern. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he said.

“You didn’t really. I was tossing and turning and I just happened to hear you.”

“Oh. Ok. Good.”

Kris pulled the glass from Adam’s hands and set it on the night stand. “That was a hell of a nightmare.”

And it had been. The dream with his mother had always been the hardest to shake off. Even now he could still hear her voice, condemning him and tossing him away like garbage.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

And no, Adam most definitely did not want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. That was private, one of the few things in his life that was his. “I don’t even remember it.”

The look on Kris’ face made it pretty clear that he didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t pushing it. “Ok. Well, I should let you get back to sleep. Should probably get some myself, huh?”

Kris stood, walking with his back to the door, eyes still glued to Adam as if he expected another meltdown.

“Yeah, ok.” Adam paused, then added, “Thank you, sir.” It was mostly obligatory, but there was a part of him that meant it, grateful for the kindness when he’d been at his most vulnerable.

But there was a larger part of him that was confused by it, and angry that it had been given. Slave owners didn’t do good things out of the kindness of their hearts. They did them to their own benefit. And although it was not always immediately apparent, there was always a cost.

Always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

If nighttime was Adam’s least favorite part of the day, evening was his favorite. Late evening, when his duties for his new master had been fulfilled and he could join Allison and the others.

He sought her out as he entered the slaves' common area and she ran toward him, hair like flame dancing around her eager, smiling face.

They embraced hard, clinging tightly before breaking apart.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Adam.”

“And how was your day?” he asked.

Her smile disappeared as her face took on a look of mock sternness. “No.”

“Huh?”

“No. No one hurt me today. No one tried to touch me. No one was mean. No.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask any of those questions.”

“Well, you were going to. I figured I’d cut you off at the pass.”

Adam smiled, rueful. “I’m that obvious?”

She placed her hand against his cheek, no longer fighting her own smile. “Only a little.”

“It’s because I care, you know.”

“I know. But you worry too much, Adam. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to admit that maybe we lucked out. That we’re in a good place here.”

“Al, we’ve only been here for four days. It’s way too early to be making that judgment call.”

She opened her mouth to reply, ready to argue, but stopped when she noticed the dark shadows under Adam’s eyes.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You look tired. Did something happen?” Then, with more urgency, a hint of panic in her voice, “Did Master do something to you?”

“No. I had a nightmare last night, one of my bad ones, and he was there when I woke up.”

“He did do something to you.” It was not a question.

“He gave me a cup of water and asked if I wanted to talk about it.”

“And?”

“And then he left.”

“You shit!” she yelled, punching him in the upper arm. “Why were you making me worry if that’s all that happened?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . . he saw it.” He rubbed at his arm, aware of the sting. Allison had a hell of a punch. “None of my other owners have ever been around for the bad dreams. Not even Frank.”

“Your first?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I mean . . . why is it a bad thing that he knows you have nightmares? Because it’s a weakness?”

Adam collapsed onto the empty couch behind them and dragged his fingers through his hair. He’d spent countless hours last night agonizing about what had happened, seesawing from one emotion to another. Now he was exhausted, feeling as if his every last nerve was ragged and frayed. “It’s a huge one. And it’ll happen again. And then he’ll know how bad it is. God, who knows what he heard me say? What he’s going to hear me say.”

Allison rubbed small circles against his back. “You don’t know that he’s going to use it against you.”

“Allie . . . ”

“I’m serious, Adam! I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“Oh, babe, I know you’re smart. Trust me.”

“Then why can’t you even entertain the thought that I’m right? That Master is a good guy?”

He turned his head, unaware of his own hands still clutching in the strands of his hair. “Because the world doesn’t work that way, Al.”

“Yeah, so he’s plying you with water and kindness so he can beat the shit out of you later. Is that it?”

He had no answer to that. None. Not when the humor in her statement snuck up on him, forcing a laugh from his throat. This was one of the reasons he had been drawn to her in the first place. She was still young and innocent, untainted. And she could always make him laugh.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t mock me.” It was his own attempt at humor. A weak attempt to pull himself back from the uncertainty that had been plaguing him ever since he had woken up in his new master’s arms.

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” she asked.

“No. I’m old and wise.”

She went to punch him again, but he intercepted, and brought her in for a tight hug instead.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

He could feel her about to pull away, but he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. It wasn’t often that he was the one in need of comfort, but he needed it now. “Just . . . thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Kris didn’t make a practice of lying, but he hadn’t exactly been honest with Adam the night of his nightmare. He’d told Adam that he’d been awake, tossing and turning, when in actuality, he’d been sound asleep, happily ensconced in his own dreams. It wasn’t until the sound of pained whimpering reached his ears that he’d been brought to wakefulness. Always a light sleeper, he’d been instantly alert, following the sound to find Adam moaning pitifully in his sleep.

He wasn’t sure why he had lied, other than a sense that the knowledge would have upset Adam.

Being a light sleeper was both a blessing and a curse, but it was something that he had lived with for so long that he thought little of it. He had simply resigned himself to being prematurely woken up on the occasions that Adam’s dreams turned dark.

He never expected that it would happen again so quickly.

This time it wasn’t whimpers that woke him, but screams laced with terror. He lurched forward in bed, muscles instinctively locking in flight or flight instinct.

It took a few moments for his brain to catch up with his body, for him to remember Adam, that Adam was here now and that only he could be responsible for those screams.

He jumped out of bed, running across the hall and into Adam’s room, his hand slamming into the wall to turn on the light switch. He winced at the sudden harshness of the light, turning to look as soon as he could open his eyes.

What he saw was Adam, thrashing wildly in bed, his arms flailing in front of his body as if he trying to fend an attacker.

Kris ran to him, grabbing him by the upper arms and lifting his body to a seated position. He gave him a few hard shakes. “Adam, wake up!” he shouted. He didn’t feel he had the time to be gentle, to coax him out of the nightmare. Not with the way Adam’s heart-rending screams were echoing through the small room.

But Adam wasn’t waking up. If anything he was fighting harder, struggling in Kris’ arms as if he were now the enemy.

“Adam, stop! Wake up!”

The screams held words now. Kris couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t from the beginning.

“Stop . . . please . . . it hurts. Stop . . . ”

“Adam, wake up! Come on, you have to wake up!”

But Adam didn’t, not that Kris had really expected that to work. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so helpless, like he and Adam had both somehow been ensnared in the web that was Adam’s nightmare and he could do nothing to pull them out. In what was mostly a last-ditch, desperate effort, he shook Adam one more time, hard enough to snap his teeth together and shouted, “Adam! Wake the fuck up! Now!”

And Adam did, his eyes snapping open, his body going rigid. Unfortunately, he had brought the dream with him, and even though he was no longer screaming, he was still fighting. Kris tightened his arms around him, knowing that it would take time to bring Adam down.

“Adam, it’s ok. It’s just a dream. It’s over.”

No sooner had the words been spoken, that Adam bucked hard in his grip, right arm swinging wild, but somehow still managing to catch Kris square in the jaw.

Kris tumbled out of the bed, falling to the floor in an awkward heap. For a moment he found himself afraid of Adam’s size and strength and the damage he could inflict with them. That fear evaporated as soon as Adam landed on the floor beside him, looking as wide-eyed and frightened as a cornered animal.

Adam’s breath was hitching, coming in stuttering, pained gasps. “I’m so sorry. Master, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry.”

Kris raised a hand to his jaw, touching it gingerly. It hurt, would probably be tender for a few days, but he would live.

“Adam, it’s ok. I’m fine.”

The words were meant to soothe Adam, but if anything he only seemed to grow more agitated.

“I’m so sorry, Master. Please forgive me. Please . . . ”

Kris felt like he’d fallen into a surreal other-world, where up was down and down was up. Adam was begging and Adam never begged. Adam was calling him master as if he meant it, and Adam . . . well, he was pretty sure that Adam would rather stick a fork in his hand than call him by that title.

He knew that some people would enjoy seeing their slave like this, knew that some people would find it a turn-on.

He found that he hated it. He hated seeing Adam brought to this, like a trembling wounded animal waiting for the death blow. He preferred proud, stubborn Adam. Even if sometimes proud, stubborn Adam could be a frustrating pain in the ass.

Placing a hand on either side of Adam’s face, he waited until Adam’s eyes found his own.

“Listen to me. I’m not mad. You’re not in trouble. Ok?”

Adam’s breath hitched again, coming much too fast. Kris was no expert, but he was fairly sure that Adam was hyperventilating. “Adam, listen to me. It was an accident, right?” he asked, careful to keep his voice soft and measured.

“I...”

Adam tried to shake his head away from Kris’ grip, but Kris held on tight, keeping Adam’s attention on him.

“It was an accident, right?”

Adam didn’t answer right away. Instead, he blinked slowly, brow furrowing as if he were really thinking on the question. Only inches away, Kris could see the moment it happened - the subtle shift of awareness in the other man’s blue eyes.

Adam was coming back.

“Yes,” Adam whispered.

Encouraged, Kris continued. “You didn’t do it on purpose, right?”

“No. I would never.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. It was an accident. And I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t lie to you, do I?” Kris asked.

“No, sir. You don’t.”

“Listen, stay here. I’ll be right back, ok?”

With a nod from Adam as his answer, Kris stood up, backing out of the room and heading toward his own bathroom. He flipped on the light and gripped the counter, surprised to find that his entire body was shaking, that it was all he could do not to slide to the floor.

He rode it out, knowing it was just the excess adrenaline, that it would soon pass. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, unnerved by what he saw. The wild, tousled hair was expected. So were the dark smudges under his eyes. What was not expected was the scared, manic look in his eyes. The same one that had been in Adam’s eyes when he’d been semi-coherent and begging, almost as if he’d pulled the fear from Adam and had taken it unto himself.

He laughed, and it didn’t sound altogether sane, and then turned on the tap to splash some cold water on his face. It took several seconds of fumbling around the medicine cabinet to find what he was looking for, but eventually he did. He made one more stop, to the kitchen, and by the time he walked back into Adam’s room, he felt, if not all together, then at least calmer.

He found Adam right where he had left him, on the floor, huddled in on himself, his hair a dark curtain over his face.

“Adam, get in bed,” he said.

Adam nodded and did as he was told, standing up and sliding in between the sheets with rough, jerky movements.

Kris sat down on the edge of the bed. “Here, take this.” He held out a pill, dropping it into Adam’s open palm. In Adam’s other hand, he placed a cup of water.

“What is it?”

“It’s a sleeping pill.”

Adam shook his head. “That’s ok. I don’t need it.”

“You are too wound up to get any kind of decent sleep tonight. This will help.”

“I don’t know . . . ”

“Hey,” Kris said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. “This is an order, ok? Take it.”

And Adam did, although he didn’t seem very happy about it, slipping it into his mouth and chasing it down with a large sip of water.

“I’ve never taken one of those before,” Adam admitted as he set the glass down on the night stand.

“It’ll be good. It’ll help you sleep and you won’t dream.”

Adam nodded, and although his exhale was still a little shaky for Kris’ taste, at least he no longer looked like he was living through his very own horror movie.

“Ok. I’m gonna go back to bed?” He made it a question, giving Adam the option to ask him to stay, even though he knew he wouldn’t.

Adam didn’t, and within a few minutes Kris was back in his own bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how he was ever going to get back to sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris had woken up the next day thanking the gods that it was Saturday. He’d lost track of how long he’d spent staring at the darkness above him last night. He’d dropped off eventually, but his sleep had not been restful, and it had been almost noon by the time he’d finally rolled out of bed for a shower.

He had peeked in on Adam, relieved to see that he was still sleeping. He hadn’t been quite ready to deal with the aftermath of last night, had needed time to think of what he would say, definitely some heavy-duty coffee . . .

One thing was for certain; Adam had frightened him last night. The intensity of his nightmares was beyond anything Kris had ever experienced. Kris felt along his bruised jaw, found it sore as hell. Maybe he should have been angry with Adam, he knew that most slave owners would be, but he couldn’t muster that emotion at all. If anything he was concerned for Adam and what he wanted, besides a basic understanding of what was haunting the other man at night, was a way to ease it.

Kris sipped on his coffee, his second refill since he’d gotten up. In the past hour he’d managed to conjure up a plan - maybe not a brilliant one, but one that might be effective nonetheless.

He tried not to smile when Adam staggered into the kitchen, still dressed in his pajama top and bottoms, hair wild and untamed, face creased from his pillow. He looked very innocent. And more than a little beautiful.

Adam leaned against the wall of the kitchen and crossed his arms, looking as grouchy as Kris had ever seen him. “I overslept,” he said.

“I know.”

“Because you drugged me.”

“Drugged is a strong word - it was one pill, but I know.”

“Well, I can’t be in trouble for not doing my work if you’re the one that drugged me.”

“You’re not in trouble, trust me.”

Adam pushed away from the wall, then faltered as he stumbled slightly. “Um . . . I think I’m still a little drugged.”

“Why don’t you go shower and make yourself something to eat? You’ll feel better.”

“Yeah?”

“Go. Take your time. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Yeah, ok. Thanks.”

Kris watched him walk away, smiling at the way he was weaving slightly back and forth, and settled in to wait.

It took nearly half an hour, but eventually Adam wandered out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He ate quickly, then settled down in a chair across the kitchen table from Kris, his own mug of steaming coffee cradled in his hands.

“So . . . ”

“So,” Kris began. “This morning I was thinking - here we are living in such close quarters and we’ve never really talked.”

“Talked?”

“Yeah. We don’t know anything about each other.”

“Not to be sarcastic, sir, but you have my file. What more do you need to know?”

“I have a feeling there’s lots of things I don’t know about you, Adam. So here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly. You’re not going to get in trouble no matter what you say. After that, it’ll be your turn to ask me any question you’d like and I’ll answer honestly. So what do you think?”

Adam sighed. “I think it doesn’t matter what I think. We’re doing this no matter what.”

“True. So, I’ll start.” Kris paused for dramatic effect. “What’s your favorite color?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“They’ll get harder as we go. Come on.”

“Um . . . red, I guess.”

“Why red?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s angry and powerful and passionate. It’s a strong color.”

“Ok,” Kris said, nodding as he digested the information. “Your turn.”

“This is strange.”

“Just try it.”

“Ok, um,” Adam looked down into the coffee mug, frowning as if searching for his question in it. After a few seconds, he raised his head, a look of triumph on his face. “What’s it like to be rich?”

Kris leaned back in the chair and thought the question through, wanting to give Adam the honesty he had promised. “It’s nice, I guess? I don’t know. I don’t think about it much. I mean, I know that I’m lucky, really lucky, but it’s not something that’s on my mind all the time.”

“You take it for granted.”

“I try not to, but maybe I do,” Kris admitted. Then, “Ok, my turn.”

“Shoot.”

Kris exhaled slowly. Things were about to get harder. “What’s your relationship with Allison?”

“Allison?”

“Yes, Allison. Are you . . . together?”

Adam seemed confused by the question. “I mean . . . she’s like my sister.”

“You care about her?”

And just like that, the confusion was wiped away, replaced by determination. “I do. And I will do anything to keep her safe. And I don’t care who knows it. No one touches her.”

It was telling that Adam had misunderstood the reason for the question. Telling that he would think to protect her without hesitation when really, the question hadn’t been about her at all.

Kris nodded. “Noted. Nothing’s going to happen to Allison. No one’s going to hurt her. I give you my word. And now it’s your turn.”

“Well, since we’re talking about Allison. Why did you bring her here?” Adam asked. “You didn’t intend to buy her. I don’t think you even wanted her. So why is she here?”

“When I saw you two, how hard it was for you to say goodbye to each other, I just knew I couldn’t leave her there.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I had a better answer. It was as much of an impulse as buying you. It just felt like the right thing to do. With both you and her.”

Adam nodded, gaze locked onto his coffee cup once more, his fingers circling its rim over and over.

Kris cleared his throat against the rush of heat he felt at the one simple gesture. “Tell me about your nightmares. And don’t lie and tell me you don’t remember because I know you do.”

Adam sighed, and it was a sound of such deep weariness that Kris felt guilty for having wrung it from him. “They’re just . . . things that have happened. In the past. When I’m awake, I can keep from thinking about them, but sometimes at night . . . they just slip through.”

“That first one was about your mother.”

“Yes.”

“And last night?”

“Sometimes, the people that have owned me . . . have hurt me.”

It was clear that Adam would say no more, but no more was needed. His words had already conjured up a hundred chilling images for Kris, each one more twisted than the one before it.

Kris breathed in deep, struggling to maintain his composure against the nearly overwhelming desire to hurt the ones that had hurt the man before him. “Ok. Your turn.”

Adam leaned forward, placing both arms on the table, face earnest and open. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You let me eat with you at the table. You give me this amazing room with an actual bed and tv. And what happened last night, accident or not, I should have been punished. You know that. So why? Why are you so nice to me?”

There was quiet anguish in Adam’s voice, stealing its usual lilt and rendering it rough and worn.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? Why are you so confused by this?”

Adam pushed his chair away from the table, making to leave. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Kris stood up, moving around the table and catching Adam just as he was standing up as well. He wrapped a hand around Adam’s wrist, the other clutching at his arm. “Wait a minute. Does this have to do with what you were saying to me last night? What you told me now?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “That’s it, isn’t it? You expect to be punished for every little thing. You expect to have to kneel at my feet and beg, don’t you? And you can’t understand why you don’t have to.”

“You don’t know me,” Adam said, body jerking in Kris’ grasp, a weak attempt to get away. “You don’t know anything about me. Or my life.”

“So tell me.”

“No. You know what? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Barely aware that he was doing it, Kris raised his hand to Adam’s face, cupping his cheek. “What happened to you?” he whispered. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, sir. Let me go.”

“Adam . . . ”

Kris could feel the tremors running through Adam’s body, making it thrum like a live wire in his hands. “Please,” Adam said, and it was little more than a hushed rasp. “Just let me go, ok?”

It was that last plea that finally forced Kris to loosen his hold.

Adam moved away from him, rubbing the wrist that Kris had held as if it burned. He got as far as the edge of the kitchen before he stopped and turned back.

“I’m not broken.”

Kris shook his head, not understanding, the words meaningless. “What?”

“You’re looking at me like I am.” Adam lifted his head, a slight tilt of his chin. There, written in every line of his face, in the hard set of his eyes, was the defiance that Kris had seen that day in Danny’s courtyard. “But you can save your pity for someone that needs it. It’s not me. I’m not broken.”

And with those words, Adam turned back around and walked away.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris went to him hours later. Adam was in the garden, kneeling in the dirt and pulling out weeds with quick, violent strokes.

Kris lowered himself to one knee, waiting until Adam stilled.

“You misread me. I don’t think you’re broken. I think you’re possibly one of the strongest men I’ve ever known.”

Adam turned to him, the question in his eyes.

“But no one can be strong all the time. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Sir . . . ”

But Kris was already standing and this time it was he that walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

The bar was small and exclusive, one of his favorites, and Matt, the man that sat across from him was one of his closest friends, had been ever since junior high school. Kris was in good company, premium wine in his glass, the sounds of soft jazz piped in through the speakers, and yet he couldn’t fully relax and enjoy it, not when his mind was occupied by thoughts of the man waiting for him at home.

In the three weeks since he’d bought Adam from Danny, they’d managed to settle into an easy routine. Adam had actually proven to be quite adept in his role, often anticipating Kris’ needs before he could voice them. And it was nice, to have someone to come home to, someone to hold an intelligent conversation with or to watch corny movies on tv with.

But at the same time, in the three weeks since he’d gotten Adam, he’d seen very little of his friend, a fact which Matt was currently taking great pleasure in reminding him of.

“Seriously, man. You never come out with us anymore. You never return phone calls. What’s the deal?”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that, with Adam there, I feel like I should be home more often.”

Matt leaned forward, interest piqued considerably. “Adam? Who’s Adam?”

“I didn’t tell you?” Kris asked, knowing perfectly well that he hadn’t. He hadn’t purposefully kept Adam a secret, but he also hadn’t gone out of his way to tell anyone about him.

“No. Who is he? A boyfriend?”

“No. He’s . . . ” he hesitated, torn between wanting to talk about it and fearing the ensuring teasing that could go on for days. “Aw man, you promise not to give me a hard time?”

Matt held his fingers up in the classic Boy Scouts’ oath. “I promise. So go. Who’s Adam?”

“He’s a slave I bought from Danny Gokey a few weeks ago.”

“Holy shit! No way! A slave! You?”

“Yeah. Me.”

Leaning back against his chair, Matt took a large sip of wine, turning contemplative. “I never thought I’d see the day when you owned a slave.”

“Why not?” Kris asked.

“I don’t know. It just never seemed to be your type of thing, you know? Especially not so soon.”

“To be honest, it was pretty spur-of-the moment,” Kris admitted.

“So what, he’s like a pleasure slave?” Matt asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that why you’re always at home?”

“What? No! Come on, you know me better than that.”

Matt sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “You’re right. You are pretty boring. Ok, so tell me about him.”

Kris thought about the request for a minute, trying to figure out how to put Adam into words. It was, he soon realized, an almost impossible task. Adam was a force. Even chained down as he was by his status, Adam was a force. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Kris would stare at the ceiling and wonder what Adam’s life would have been like if he’d never been sold; the things he would have seen, all he would have done.

But Matt was staring at him expectantly, so he cleared his throat and tried. “He’s tall, strong. He’s got dark hair and blue eyes. He’s really pretty, actually. And he’s got this attitude . . . I don’t know. I think some really bad things have happened to him, and he’s got this wall built up. But every once in a while he lets it down and when he does - he’s really funny and smart and cool.”

Kris stopped when he saw the Cheshire cat grin spreading over Matt’s face. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he’d said too much. “What?”

“You should listen to yourself. You’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re falling for him, you idiot.”

And that, well, that was just the most preposterous thing that Kris had ever heard. “I’m not falling for him, Matt. I own him for crying out loud.”

“Then why does it sound like you’re describing someone that you’re about to propose to instead of a slave?”

Kris was about to protest when Matt held up his hand. “Hey, it’s cool,” he said. “It happens. You remember Jim Saxton? He was a senior when we were freshman? I ran into him the other day and we started talking. Turns out he had a slave, a girl, and he ended up falling in love with her, bought her freedom for her and married her.”

Kris had heard of it - knew that it was possible to buy a slave their freedom. But up until now, he’d never known of anyone who’d actually done it. “Yeah?” he asked.

“I’m telling you, man. It happens.”

“Well, it’s not happening here. I mean, yeah sure, Adam’s attractive and maybe in another time and place, who knows? But no. That’s not what’s happening here.”

Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself. Nothing to see here, move along.” He looked down at his now empty wine glass and the just as empty wine bottle in the middle of the table. “What do you say? One more for the road?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Kris made his way up the walk to his cottage, cursing the ground for the way it seemed to shift underneath him. He had overindulged, something which seemed to happen quite a lot whenever he and Matt got together, and he knew that he would be regretting it come morning. But for now, he felt good - mellow and relaxed.

If only the ground would stop tilting.

He took out his key when he got to the front door, fumbling with it in clumsy hands, cursing when it wouldn’t go inside the keyhole despite his best efforts.

More choice words followed as he grasped the key in his hands and prepared to try again when the door swung open. He stumbled slightly, catching himself before falling. He tilted his head to see Adam standing above him, his Adam. It was late and he must have been tired, but still Adam followed the protocol of not going to bed until his master was home.

Adam leaned against the doorjamb, bemused smile on his face. “Having trouble with your key, sir?”

“Very funny,” Kris said, straightening and stepping past him into the house. He made his way over to the couch, flopping down on it with no sense of grace or balance. He felt warm and a little fuzzy, as if his thoughts couldn’t quite connect. He looked over at Adam, saw that he was wearing his pajamas, both top and bottom like always, and the thought came to him that he wore them like a suit of armor; his barrier of protection.

Adam walked over to him, bending at the waist, the perfect picture of a solicitous slave. “Did you need anything? You want me to get your bed ready?”

But sleep was the last thing on Kris’ mind. On impulse, he wrapped his hand around Adam’s wrist and tugged until Adam was sitting next to him. “You can be very frustrating sometimes, you know.”

Adam raised his eyebrows, all disingenuous innocence. “Am I?”

“You are. Frustrating,” he said, and suddenly it seemed very important that he tell Adam this, that he make Adam understand. “But I like that. I like you that way. Is that weird?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, sir.”

Kris shook his head, because that was the wrong answer. When he refocused, his attention was caught by the way loose strands of Adam’s hair hung in his face. Letting go of Adam’s wrist, he reached out, rubbing those strands between his fingers. “Your hair’s long.”

“It is, yes.”

“It’s pretty, but it’s long. Why is it so long?”

“My last two owners have liked it long.” Adam shrugged. “More to hold onto.”

Kris frowned. He had never liked the idea of anyone else touching Adam, he liked it even less now. “Do you like it?”

“I hate it.”

“Then we’ll get it cut. Tomorrow. We’ll get it cut tomorrow.”

“That’s a great idea, sir. But for now, why don’t we get some sleep so we don’t feel like utter shit in the morning?”

Kris tried to frown, but it turned into a pout instead. He couldn’t understand why Adam seemed so intent on sleep when there were clearly other things to talk about, other things going on.

Barely cognizant that he was doing so, Kris relinquished his hold on Adam’s hair. He placed his hand against Adam’s cheek, fingers splayed against his skin while his thumb idly caressed his jaw.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, and in his own tone he recognized wonderment. “Do you have any idea?”

Adam took hold of Kris’ hand, moving it down. “You need to get to bed.”

“Not tired.”

“Sir . . . ”

He pulled away from Adam’s grip, this time framing Adam’s face with both his hands, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel. “Danny was a fool to let you go.”

“Gokey’s a fool, period. Now come on, let’s get you to bed, ok? You can sleep it off.”

Adam placed his hands under Kris’ arms and started to move them both up, but Kris resisted, and they ended up falling back onto the couch.

“Sir . . . ”

“I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“You prefer master?”

Kris shook his head, the movement making everything tilt and careen. “Kris. I want you to call me Kris.”

There was a small, dim part of him that was aware that his mouth was moving at a faster speed than his brain, that he was saying things he shouldn’t be saying, doing things he shouldn’t be doing. That part of him was eclipsed by the part of him that didn’t care, that was all id and instinctive force and hunger.

“You really need to get to bed,” Adam said.

“No, wait. Wait . . . it’s just . . . You’re so beautiful.”

He wasn’t even conscious of his touch roving; flitting across Adam’s face, his throat, his shoulders. His right hand stopped at Adam’s mouth, his thumb against Adam’s lips, full and soft beneath him.

“So beautiful.” It was barely a whisper, hushed with awe.

“Sir . . . ”

“Sh . . . It’s ok. I just . . . I need . . . ”

He’d been drawing them closer, hand now against the back of Adam’s neck, fingertips brushing against the unyielding collar. When their lips finally met, it was sweet relief, like receiving something you’d been waiting for so long that you’d given up hope of ever having it. He melted into it, and with a light shove tilted Adam back. He could blame it gravity, but it was him, urging them both backward until Adam lay on the couch while he hovered over.

Adam’s mouth was soft and he tasted sweet, like the last lingering mint of toothpaste. Kris licked into that mouth, groaning against it when a flush of heat rushed through him. For several precious seconds, he let himself drown in the sensation of Adam underneath him, warm and pliant.

And then it hit him, a stray thought that imbedded itself into his brain and would not leave. Adam was too pliant, too docile. Experimentally, he ran his hand down Adam’s arm, testing. It was as he’d feared. Adam’s muscles were locked tight, his hand balled into a fist by his side. Suddenly, nothing felt very good anymore. Kris felt like he’d been dunked under ice water, and the buzz that had been surrounding him, protecting him against reality, was gone.

He pulled away, saw Adam shift his gaze from the ceiling to him.

“Adam, oh God.”

“What’s the matter?” Adam asked, shifting his hips under Kris, a parody of seduction. “This is what you wanted, right?”

“No. Not this.”

Adam propped himself up on one elbow, using his free arm to reach for Kris. “Of course it is. Come on, I’m not going to fight you. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Adam, no.”

The hand that had been reaching for Kris was now against his chest, the fingers sweeping against his shirt. “I’m good, you know,” Adam said, voice low and breathy and it sent a thrill through Kris even now. “You can ask your friend, Gokey. I can do things that’ll make your head spin.”

Kris felt sick from the shame of it, of what he’d done and what he’d wanted to do. He could still feel the strain of his erection against his jeans, as if his own body were accusing him of being a monster, liar, traitor. He pushed Adam’s hand away and made to stand up.

But Adam wasn’t giving up. He sat up, grabbing fistfuls of Kris’ shirt, keeping them anchored on the couch. “You don’t have to be shy. Take what you want.”

It all caught up to Kris then. The mortification, guilt, and most unexpectedly, anger. The anger was directed mostly toward himself, for being weak, for being that guy even when he’d promised Adam that he wouldn’t be. But it was partially directed at Adam, because Adam was pushing it, just he like always pushed it, and he wouldn’t. Shut. Up.

He grabbed Adam’s wrists, digging his fingers into sensitive skin, and shook him.

“Shut the fuck up! Just shut the fuck up!”

And Adam miraculously did, snapping his mouth closed, eyes narrowing with self-satisfied smugness.

“Just . . . just go to your room, ok?” Kris said, suddenly feeling very weary. He released Adam and stood on shaky legs. “Just go to your room.”

“Fine,” Adam spat, standing as well, already moving away. “Gladly.”

And then he was gone, leaving Kris to make his way to his room, where he promptly punched the wall until his knuckles bled before passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris woke up groaning, hating everything about the morning. From the way the light streaming through the window hurt his eyes to the way the sheets seemed to scratch at too-sensitive skin, to the merciless pounding in his skull.

He checked his watch, saw that it was almost 11 and forced himself to get up despite every inch of his being wanting to stay in bed.

There were times where he would drink to excess and not remember things the next day, inconvenient black holes in his memory. But not today. Today he remembered everything.

He took his time in showering, trying to think of what to say to Adam to make things right. He knew that most people wouldn’t be bothered, that they would say that a slave was property and that it didn’t matter. But the thought that he’d possibly ruined the fragile trust that he’d been building with Adam was upsetting and he found himself wishing for a way to go back in time and undo the damage he knew he’d done.

He stepped out of the shower, placed a bandage across his aching hand, dressed and walked out of his room. And although he was more refreshed and the headache was dissipating, the shame from last night still sat heavy in his stomach.

He found Adam in the kitchen, ready with a cup of coffee and a blank stare. “I thought you might want coffee,” he said, voice flat and emotionless.

Kris took it from him, sitting down at the table before taking a sip. As usual, it was just how he liked it.

“You’re probably not ready for real breakfast, but I could make you some toast,” Adam offered.

Kris’ stomach lurched at the idea of something even as inoffensive as toast. He shook his head and pointed to the empty seat across from him. “Sit. Please.”

He waited until Adam complied before saying, “Adam, we need to talk.”

“I know. But . . . can I go first, please?”

Kris nodded. “Of course. Yeah.”

“You kissed me last night.”

Kris sucked in a breath, surprised to find that he was nervous. “Yeah, I did.”

“But you stopped. And what I need to know, I guess, is why? Why don’t you just take what you want?”

There was a crack in the blank mask that Adam had been wearing, large enough so that Kris could see to the honest confusion underneath. He knew Adam well enough by now to know that he was struggling to reconcile expectation and reality.

“Because you’re still a person, Adam,” Kris answered earnestly. “You’re not my pet and you’re not my toy. I know maybe other people don’t feel this way, but I have a responsibility toward you. I’m supposed to take care of you, not hurt you. And last night, if I hadn’t stopped . . . that would have hurt you.”

Silence settled over the kitchen as Adam processed what he’d heard.

“Besides,” Kris continued. “I meant what I said. I like my partners willing. I stopped when I realized that you weren’t. It took me a little while, but I got it.”

“I don’t understand you,” Adam said. He rubbed his hands over his face, clearly frustrated. “I’m starting to think I’m never going to understand you.”

“It’s simple. I’m not going to take anything from you unless you want to give it to me. And I know you have no reason to trust me after last night, but it’s the truth.”

“And if I never do? Want to?”

“Then it doesn’t happen,” he said, as honest a statement as he’d ever made. In the light of day and sober, he could finally admit to himself that he wanted Adam. And as difficult as it might be, he knew he could never act on it, not unless he knew, with absolute certainty, that Adam wanted the same from him.

More silence, longer this time, until Adam settled back in the chair and laid his hands flat on the table. With his index finger he began to trace patterns onto the wood. “It’s just,” he started to say before dropping his gaze. “It’s ok here. And Allison’s here. And if you sold me because I wasn’t meeting your needs . . . ”

It took everything Kris had to suppress the smile that was trying to make its way onto his face. He knew how much it had cost Adam to say those words and he didn’t want him to think he was being mocked. “That’s not going to happen. You’re not going anywhere.”

Adam stared at him, the seconds ticking away silently, and Kris knew that he was being studied, measured. Finally, Adam nodded and stood. “Well, I should probably get to work.”

“Nope,” Kris said, and this time he did smile. “You’re not doing that today.”

“I’m not?”

“Today, we’re going to get your hair cut. How you want it. And then we’re going to get you some new clothes. You barely have anything.”

“Shopping? I haven’t been shopping in a really long time.”

“No?” Kris asked, smile growing even wider. He knew that he’d lost some ground with Adam, but he hadn’t lost it all. And what he had lost, he was going to start gaining back right now. “Well, get ready, cause today we’re going to have some fun.”


	9. Chapter 9

Adam sat on the sofa in the living room, a book in hand, savoring the solitude of the empty house. He’d been alone for most of the afternoon, Kris running errands for the big party, and since he had no impending chores, he was taking the opportunity to be completely lazy; something he found he was surprisingly good at.

A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and close, the signal that Kris was home. With great reluctance, he closed the book and looked up, greeting him with a small smile. The smile faltered however when he saw what Kris was holding.

“Here it is.” The lilt in Kris’ voice could only mean that he was teasing. And reaping far too much pleasure from it.

Kris held two sets of clothes on hangers, one in each hand. The one on the right was a tuxedo, black and elegant and obviously designed for Kris. The other was an outfit that consisted of plain, black slacks, a white shirt and tie.

Adam pointed to the one on the left, the one that he was measured for only a few short days ago. “That’s it?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s hideous.”

Kris laughed and set it down on the arm of the sofa. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s because you don’t have to wear it. You get to wear the tux that makes you look suave and debonair. Meanwhile I get to look like a maitre d.”

Kris held the tuxedo up to his body, trying to arch one eyebrow and failing miserably. “Suave and debonair, huh?”

Adam couldn’t help but smile, didn’t even try to fight it. Sometimes it was so easy with Kris; to let himself go, to believe that they were just two people spending time together, enjoying each others company.

Sometimes.

He turned away from Kris and eyed the clothing he was expected to wear later tonight, dreading the reason for it. It had been explained to him that Kris’ parents threw several huge parties every year and that they expected everyone in their household to work them. And that included him. He’d tried to get out of it, exclaiming that he belonged to Kris and that technically he shouldn’t have to participate, but in the end the argument hadn’t gotten him very far.

“It won’t be so bad,” Kris said. There was no trace of teasing in his voice now, only the quiet earnestness that Adam had come to expect from him. “And in a few hours it’ll be over and you won’t have to think about it for another two or three months.”

Adam stood, picked the clothing up by the hanger and sighed. “Maybe I can make it look good.”

Kris gave a smile that was mostly encouraging if not a little mischievous. “That’s the spirit.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Showered and dressed, Adam stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room, running his fingers through his short hair, marveling at how good it felt, wondering if he would ever get tired of it.

He normally hated mirrors, hated how they showed only brutal truths, but he wanted to look good tonight, to give Kris no reason to be embarrassed by him. He took a step back to properly take everything in, scrutinizing his appearance so that everything would be up to par.

And that’s when it came to him, the thought hitting him with such force that he literally gasped.

The realization that he was looking at a stranger.

This version of himself, the one that was currently staring at him from the mirror’s glass, sported no bruises. There were no frown lines etched into his skin from trying to ignore pain. His eyes were not dull and downcast with shame.

This Adam looked well-rested and healthy and there was a warm glow to his skin that hadn’t been there in years. Not since he’d been forced to leave the safety of his first master.

Adam couldn’t remember the last time he had gazed into a mirror without feeling the need to smash his fist into it. He reached out, fingers barely skimming across the glass, and for a moment he was certain that the surface would ripple and melt away, because this . . . this could not be reality. This was Alice in Wonderland, this was a waking dream.

“Adam!”

He whipped his head around at the sound of Kris’ voice calling for him from the other room.

“We need to hurry,” Kris added.

He gave the mirror one last, lingering look before walking away from it and out to the living room where he knew Kris would be.

And for the second time in less than a few minutes, Adam found himself at the mercy of a new and unexpected truth.

“Wow,” he said, the word spilling from his mouth before he could even think to censor it.

Kris, now dressed in the tuxedo, cocked his head to the side, looking confused. “Wow?”

Adam had always recognized, in a clinical, detached way that Kris was an attractive man. The soft brown eyes and perennially tousled hair, the lopsided grin - it all added up as appealing. But there was nothing clinical or detached in his reaction now. This was visceral and dynamic. And unnerving, because he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at another man and felt attraction as a tangible thing.

He was about to reply with something flippant, maybe sarcastic, but he stopped himself in time. Kris didn’t deserve that. He deserved the truth.

“You look very handsome.”

Kris looked down the length of his body, then back up to Adam, face both guarded and hopeful at the same time. “Yeah?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped closer, gesturing at the open tie around Kris’ neck. “Want me to tie that?”

“You know how?”

“I do.”

Closing the distance between them, he gathered the ends of it, began to work them together while Kris tilted his head back, unconsciously exposing the line of his throat.

Adam’s breath stuttered in his chest at the sight. Although clearly Kris meant nothing by it, in Adam’s world the gesture translated as a sign of submission. He’d never had the opportunity to be the aggressor and for a brief instant he wondered what it would be like. How it would feel to take control, just this once. Kris was so small, it would be so easy . . .

Suddenly, the room felt too small, airless, as if the very oxygen had been stolen from it. Adam finished the task with nerveless fingers, taking a step back and a deep intake of breath to clear his mind.

Kris, oblivious to Adam’s thoughts, lowered his head and turned guileless eyes to him. “So, I’m good?” he asked.

“You’re good,” Adam said, offering up a wan smile.

So, let’s go, huh?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The party, Adam decided, was innocuous enough, rich people milling about with drinks in their hands and noses in the air. Annoying but harmless.

He and Kris had been separated fairly early on - Kris playing his part as the host’s son to perfection while Adam served drinks to the rich, famous and connected. He’d managed to find Allison at one point, but her job was to serve hors d’oeuvres, and they had been separated as well.

As the night wore on, Adam found himself concentrating on the task at hand, trying his best to balance the drinks on his tray and not get bumped into by increasingly tipsy guests. Inwardly he was counting down the time until he could get out of his ridiculous outfit and go back home.

He moved through the throng of people, searching out the empty, discarded champagne glasses so he could take them back to the kitchen when he caught sight of a too-familiar face across the room.

He froze, breath catching in his throat, and it was only when one of the partygoers jostled him slightly at the elbow that he remembered how to breathe.

Danny Gokey.

Why hadn’t Kris mentioned that he would be here? Surely he would have known?

With a violent shake of his head, he decided that it didn’t matter, he would simply avoid him all night.

It was a good plan; one that surely would have worked. If only Gokey hadn’t picked that exact moment to turn and look right at him.

Adam muttered a curse under his breath. He was about to turn, thinking he could get lost in the crowd, when Danny began to move toward him, lips curling up into a viper’s smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris stood near the back of the great ballroom, drink in hand, a churning feeling of trepidation growing in his gut. In front of him stood a twice-elected senator, talking about the needs of small businesses. He was an intelligent man, an important man, and Kris couldn’t concentrate on a word he was saying because he was too busy scanning the room for Adam.

They’d lost each other early on, each having their own role to fulfill, but Kris had managed to intermittently catch sight of him for most of the night. But no longer. He knew it had probably only been a few minutes since he’d seen last Adam, but it felt like much longer. Too long. He excused himself, offering muttered apologies to the senator, and started walking through the throng of people, intent on finding him.

He found Allison first.

“Allison, hey.”

“Hello, sir,” she said brightly.

“Have you seen Adam?”

“No, not for a while now.” She leaned in closer, growing serious as she picked up on his mood. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, not wanting to frighten her. “I was just looking for him. Nothing’s wrong.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue and he left her with what he hoped would pass for a bright smile.

The next ten minutes were spent searching and questioning every slave he came across. But the answer was always the same - nobody had seen Adam.

Until he came upon Leon.

“The last time I saw him, he was talking to some guy. One of your guests. Over there.” Leon pointed in the direction where Adam had been.

“What did the guest look like?” Kris asked, more sharply than he needed to.

Leon shrugged. “Older than you. Brown hair. Glasses.”

Danny?

It took everything Kris had not to grab Leon by the shoulders and shake answers out of him. “Did you see where Adam went after that?”

“I think they left together. Through those doors.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam had known it was a mistake to go with Gokey, had felt the dread race up his arm and through his body when Gokey had clamped a hand around his wrist, digging fingers in to pull him forward. But he couldn’t refuse. A slave couldn’t refuse a free man anything unless his own master was there to negate it.

And Kris had been nowhere in sight.

And now, several minutes later and still following behind Gokey like a lamb being led to slaughter, all Adam could do was hold on to the hope that whatever was about to happen would be over quickly.

They finally stopped deep in the garden, near a copse of trees that effectively hid them from casual passerby. Adam rubbed his sore wrist as soon as it was released. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Not talk exactly.”

“Then what?” Adam asked, relying on the irreverent attitude that had pulled him through countless times like these in the past. “You’ve come to show me the gardens? Pretty, but I’ve seen them, so . . . ”

Gokey’s hand was a blur in the dark, but it somehow connected, leaving Adam’s cheek stinging from the blow. “Shut up. That was always your problem, Adam. You never knew when to be quiet.”

“You don’t own me anymore. You can’t do this. Kris won’t like this.”

“Kris?” he asked, barking out a laugh. “It’s Kris now, is it? Well, let me tell you something about Kris. He gave me permission to do this.”

“No.”

“Yes. He knows how much I’ve been missing you. So he said I could have you this once. For old time’s sake.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“No? You know him that well? Are you willing to bet on it?”

“I . . . ”

“And if you’re wrong? You’d be disobeying a direct order. Are you willing to risk that?”

The questions were being thrown at him at dizzying speeds, and Adam felt like he was sinking under the weight of them, his brain unable to process what was happening. Gokey’s logic seemed flawed, something inherently wrong in it, and yet he couldn’t formulate any arguments against it.

“Get on your knees,” Gokey said, voice gentle now. Honeyed and persuasive. “You’re so good at it, Adam.”

Adam dropped down, barely feeling the impact of hard ground against his knees. He could feel the start of tears and that surprised him, because he never cried. Not since the early days.

But now, it was taking everything he had to hold them back, and he couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand why it was happening. And then he felt Gokey’s hand in his hair, urging him forward and he understood.

He had honestly believed, had allowed himself to believe, that he would never have to do this again. That he was safe with Kris and that he would never again have to be a victim.

And the worst part of it was, the part that did finally bring the tears, was the fact that he hadn’t even realized it until now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris had searched all over the mansion and was now outside, frantically searching through the long, sprawling grounds, wishing, for the first time in his life, that he didn’t live in such a big place.

And then he saw it, a rustle of movement up ahead near a cluster of trees. Figures entwined in the dark.

He ran forward, the moonlight and the lights set along the path guiding him until he came upon them. For a few precious, wasted seconds, he could do nothing but stand still, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Knowledge came in broken flashes, almost as if an unseen photographer were capturing the scene. He saw Adam, on his knees. Saw Danny looming over him. Danny’s hands in Adam’s hair. Adam’s hand against Danny’s thigh.

And then the flashes came together in a perfect, sickening cohesion and he understood.

He rushed to them and grabbed Danny’s arm, shoving him back and away from Adam. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.

“Whoa. Calm down.”

“I asked you a fucking question!”

Danny’s pants were down, and he quickly tugged them up and fastened them. “Look, Kris, it was no big deal, ok? I probably should have asked you, but . . . ”

Kris struggled to try to maintain some kind of control, so hard when every inch of him was raging and shaking. “How dare you, come into my house-”

“It’s no big deal. He used to do that for me all the time. He’s a fucking whore, he’s-”

Kris didn’t let him finish. He struck out, catching Danny in the jaw and sending him reeling to the ground. “Get the fuck out.”

Danny rebounded quickly, getting to his feet after only a few seconds, rubbing at his aching jaw. “What the fuck is your problem, Kris? He’s a goddamn slave!”

“You should shut up now,” Kris said. His voice sounded steely and cold, the opposite of the seething fury inside. “Get off of my property. Get out of my sight. And don’t ever come near him again.”

“Fine,” Danny spat, backing away. “Fine. You know what? You and your whore deserve each other.”

Kris watched him go, made certain he was really leaving before turning to where Adam still sat on the ground, head bowed, arms crossed in front of his body. He kneeled down in front of him, unmindful of the grass on the tuxedo.

“Did he hurt you?”

Adam didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard other than to somehow turn tighter into himself.

Kris placed his hands on Adam’s shoulders, careful to be gentle but insistent. He didn’t want to frighten Adam, didn’t want to push too hard, but he needed to know. “Adam, did he hurt you?”

Adam finally looked up, meeting Kris’ gaze. There was something in his eyes, something making them look dull and dark. Shame?

“No,” he mumbled before turning away again. “He said you told him it was ok. You gave him permission. I didn’t really believe him, but I didn’t know. Didn’t know what to do.”

The thought that Danny would dare do this, lie to Adam and manipulate him this way, caused the fury within him to surge once more. He struggled to subdue it, knowing it would do Adam no good. “Ok,” he said, and if his voice sounded a bit roughened or harsh, then so be it. “Listen to me. If this ever happens again - with anyone, you get away from them and come find me. No one touches you. Ever.” And then, to soften it, because even he could hear the trembling heat in his voice, he added, “Ok?”

Adam nodded, jerky and too fast. “Ok.”

Kris wasn’t sure if he had understood what he’d just said, if he was processing much of anything at all. He sighed, rubbing his hand along Adam’s arm, hoping to impart some warmth, some comfort.

“Come on. We’re going home.”

Adam looked toward the mansion before turning to Kris. “What about the party?”

The bright lights of the party did indeed beckon. He had duties to fulfill there. His mother and father would be depending on him. And right now, he couldn’t care less. “Screw the party. It was boring as hell anyway.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Adam couldn’t sleep.

He had tried, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of Danny’s face, leering and triumphant, would fill his mind.

Instead he lay in his bed, twisting, turning, trying to find a position that would allow him to discard the memory and grant him peace.

He couldn’t find it though, and as the minutes ticked endlessly on, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to. Not tonight.

It hadn’t been all that long ago that it had been normal to fall to his knees for Danny. And now, here he was, Danny had barely touched him, he was safe, and he could barely stop shaking. He frowned and sat up, wrapping protective arms around his legs.

He couldn’t believe that he was actually considering what he was considering - walking into the proverbial lion’s den.

But he was. Through the dark, he looked out to where Kris’ room was. He thought of the three separate times that he’d been shaken awake by nightmares and how Kris had been there each and every time, never once taking. Always soothing, always giving.

He uncurled his body, throwing the covers to the ground before slipping from the bed. He didn’t want to be alone. That was the bottom line. He couldn’t be alone tonight.

And he could admit now, even if only to himself, that he felt safe with Kris. In retrospect he realized that he’d known this soon after Kris had kissed him that night, when he'd kept his promise and hadn't touched him since. And instinct told him that whatever happened tonight, any night, that Kris would never intentionally hurt him.

Decision reached, he made his way out of his own room and to Kris’, hesitating at the closed door, placing his palm against it as if to feel the other’s presence. Would Kris be angry? He’d been told never to come in here unless Kris had given permission.

He shook himself out of indecision. He could deal with Kris being angry if it came to that. What he couldn’t deal with were the demons that Danny Gokey had reawakened tonight.

He opened the door to Kris’ room and walked inside. It was darker in here than the hall, and Adam stood, waiting for his eyes to adjust. They finally did, but even so the world remained steeped in shadow; nothing but foggy outlines and dark craters. He walked to the window, careful not to disturb anything, and parted the heavy curtains until moonlight flooded the room.

Now better able to see, he turned his attention to the bed and to the man on it. Kris was curled up on his side, facing him, one hand pillowed under his cheek, the other open and lax near his side. He looked peaceful, small and somehow fragile, but Adam knew that final impression was deceiving. Even now he could remember how Kris had all but picked him up off the ground, how he had supported his weight as they’d walked to the cottage, how he had laid Danny out with a single punch.

There was strength there. A strength that was tempered with compassion; a rarity.

He walked to the bed, sitting on it and leaning down over Kris. He was just about to speak when Kris stirred, turning onto his back, already propping himself up on one elbow, hand sliding over his eyes.

“What?” he mumbled.

“It’s just me,” Adam whispered.

Kris squinted into the darkness, eyes trying to adjust. “Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe . . . ”

“You want to stay here?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah.” And then, because he felt that he needed to make the offer, he placed his hand on Kris’ thigh. Kris slept in his boxers, so Adam made sure to avoid the fabric, touching bare skin instead. “I could . . . we could . . . ”

But Kris’ hand wrapped around his wrist, stilling his hand. “No, hey. It’s ok, come here.” And with a simple, insistent tug, Kris pulled Adam toward him, until Adam’s body was curled against his side, his head rested on Kris’ shoulder.

“But, sir, I want to,” Adam said, the sincerity in his voice surprising them both. He wanted to thank Kris, not just for tonight, and this was the best way he knew how. It was the only way he knew how. “I want to do this for you.”

“Not like this,” Kris said, and Adam could feel him shaking his head. “Not because you’re grateful. If and when it happens between us, it’s going to happen for all the right reasons. And because of that, it’s going to be amazing.”

Adam settled back, not quite understanding. He was offering, clearly willing, and Kris still didn’t take. But he was learning that he didn’t always have to fight what he didn’t understand.

He lay still for a few moments, letting himself enjoy the feel of Kris’ arm around his back, the solid comfort of another person’s body, before asking, “Should I go?”

“Do you want to?” Kris asked, sounding sleepy.

Adam pondered the question. Any other time he would have answered yes. But he was warm and comfortable. And safe. “Not really?” he finally said.

Kris chuckled, Adam both hearing it and feeling the vibration of it. “Then stay,” Kris said.

Adam closed his eyes, relaxing his body inch by inch.

“All right.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kris woke up slow and lazy, the weight of a hand against his hip, the warmth of a body pressing against his back.

In the muddied confusion of morning, it took him several seconds to realize whom he was sharing his bed with.

It was Adam of course. Beautiful Adam. His Adam.

He turned around, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Sleep seemed to steal away much of Adam’s troubles, leaving his face unlined, childlike in its innocence. Kris propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down, his fingers settling against the softness of Adam’s hair.

He could still recall the fear-fueled adrenaline as he had searched for Adam, fancied he could still taste the sharp bitterness of his anger when he saw Adam on his knees before Danny. He tried not to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten there in time, but it was so hard when his mind kept slipping the possibilities past his defenses. How different would last night have been if he’d moved just a little more slowly? What further damage would Danny have wrought?

At that moment, Adam shifted, mumbling something under his breath while his eyelids fluttered, blue eyes opening under long lashes.

“Hey,” Kris said.

“Oh,” Adam said, voice registering surprise. “I’m sorry. I should get up.”

“No. Stay.” He pulled away from Adam and sat up. “Get some more sleep if you want. I’m gonna go shower.”

With a small nod as an answer, Kris stood up and made his way to the bathroom. He showered and shaved, taking care with his sore hand, trying not to rush. He knew the extent of Adam’s pride and he could guess at what it had cost Adam to come to him last night. And although what he wanted more than anything was to hurry back inside and wrap his arms around the other man, he didn’t. He took his time so he could give Adam any time and space that he might need.

When he finally finished, he walked back inside the bedroom, eyes already searching for Adam’s form under the covers. What he found instead was an empty bed, made to military precision, and Adam nowhere in sight.

He dressed quickly and followed the smell of frying bacon to find Adam in the kitchen. He stood next to him, trying to fall in his line of sight.

“What are you doing?”

Adam didn’t spare him a glance. “Making breakfast, like I always do.”

Kris wasn’t quite sure what he had expected this morning, but this glacial front was not it. “You don’t have to do that today,” he said.

“Why not? We have to eat.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that right now.” He watched as Adam flipped the bacon over, taking such care with it, one would think cooking it was the only thing that mattered. “I mean, can you stop for a second?”

“The bacon will burn.”

“Let it.” Kris reached over, turning the dial on the stove until the burner was off. “Look at me. Are you ok?”

Adam gave a small shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well . . . because of what happened last night? With Danny? I mean, I know he didn’t physically hurt you, but . . . ”

“I’m fine, sir.” Adam turned back to the stove, hand already back on the skillet. “Really it was no big deal. He barely touched me.”

“Really? Because you seemed upset last night.”

“Last night was last night. I overreacted. And I’m sorry. I should never have come to your bed like that.”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize. I’m glad you did. You can come to me anytime. You know that right?”

Adam’s smile was twisted and bitter, a parody of his true one. “That’s not going to happen again.”

“Adam . . . what’s going on here?”

“Oh, I get it,” Adam said. “You want me to be grateful.”

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“No? Are you sure? You sure you don’t want a big, flowery speech? Or I can throw myself at your feet if that’s better.”

Kris could feel himself losing control of the conversation, could feel it spiraling off into dangerous, uncharted territory. So much like that first day, the day he’d brought Adam home. And just like that day, shock and frustration churned inside of him, making rational thought nearly impossible. So much like that first day, except that this time was a thousand times worse.

This time it hurt.

“I don’t need you to thank me, Adam!”

“Then what do you want?”

“Nothing. I want you to talk to me,” he cried. “Talk to me like you did yesterday. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m not a child, I don’t need you,” Adam spat.

“Why are you saying these things?”

“Ok, now I do get it,” Adam said, and the words might as well have been razors as much as they stung. “You thought this was going to be some fairytale scenario where you endlessly swoop in and rescue me, huh? Well, guess what? I’m not a damsel in distress and you’re not a fucking prince. I don’t need you. You’re not-”

“Ok. Stop. Stop talking.”

“I-”

“I said, close your mouth. That was an order.”

And Adam did, snapping it shut like a puppet on a string.

“Now sit the fuck down.”

And Adam did, moving toward the closest empty chair in the kitchen. Kris stood over him, hands clasping the chair’s arms. “Is this what you want from me? To make me so frustrated that I just want to shake you to the ground?”

Adam opened his mouth to answer, stopping when Kris leaned in closer.

“Did I say you could talk?”

Adam glared but otherwise stayed still and silent.

“Or is this what you want? For us to be master and slave? Do you want me to be like Danny? Do you want me to hurt you?”

Adam, rendered mute by Kris’ order, turned his head away.

“Look at me,” he said, waiting until Adam obeyed. “You came to me last night, remember? You came to me. So what kind of games are you playing here?”

There was no answer. There couldn’t be, not with his order fresh in both their minds, but Kris hadn’t been searching for one. He needed to give voice to the turmoil inside him, to the hurt that was raging so severely that the chair shook in his grip. He was only seconds away from gripping Adam that tightly, from shaking him until all this new coldness spilled out from him.

Yet even now the thought of hurting Adam was unbearable. He pulled away, walking to the stove, to where the ruined breakfast lay. “Go to your room,” he said, not bothering looking back at the man he was speaking to. “Go to your room and stay there until I tell you different.”

He hated saying the words, but he needed some distance from Adam. He choked out a bitter laugh when he heard Adam’s retreating footsteps. He needed space, time to orient himself, but there was nowhere for either of them to go. This was Adam’s home now just as much as it was own.

There was only one option. He would have to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t specifically set out to find Allison when he’d walked out the door. He’d gone to breakfast. He’d taken a long drive along the outskirts of the city. He’d dropped into the nearly empty office and caught up on some outstanding paperwork.

He hadn’t specifically set out to talk to Allison. And yet, here he was all the same.

“They said you wanted to see me?” she asked, hands twisting in her lap. “Is something wrong, sir?”

They were in the sun room, the late afternoon rays streaming through its glass walls casting a golden, serene glow over everything. He had hoped the setting would calm her. He’d been wrong. “No, there isn’t. I just wanted to talk to you.” When he saw that his answer wasn’t doing anything to quell her nervousness, he smiled and added, “I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Allison nodded, responding with a weak smile of her own, although she looked far from convinced.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about Adam.”

“Adam?”

“You two are very close. And I was hoping that you could give me some insight into him.”

“Oh.” She frowned, hands stilling.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. But I am. I’m kind of desperate here, Allison.”

“What did you want to know?”

“About his past owners. Anything you can tell me about them.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And what they’ve done to Adam.”

“Is this an order?”

“No. It’s me asking. Just tell me whatever you can.”

He could almost hear her mind working as she mulled things over; could only imagine what options she must be weighing.

“Please, Allison.”

“It’s just that . . . I don’t really know much. He’s kind of closed, even to me.”

“I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok. Well . . . I know that he liked his first owner. And I know that he was with him for a long time. Until he died. And after that, I guess it’s been pretty bad. He’s never gone into detail, but I know that some have been worse than others. I know that some have hurt him pretty bad.” She dropped her voice down into a whisper. “I’ve seen the scars. I know about the nightmares.”

Kris reached over and clasped one of her hands within his, as much for his comfort as for hers. He’d seen those scars. He’d pulled Adam out of those nightmares. He understood. “What about Danny?” he asked.

“Um . . . Danny. Danny wasn’t very nice. He was always punishing Adam. Or well . . . having someone else punish him. Danny doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.”

“And he used him as a bed slave?”

“Danny had two favorites. Adam was one of them. I guess he summoned Adam to his bed a lot.”

Kris had figured as much, and yet it still hurt to hear. It hurt more than he ever thought possible. “He told you that?”

“No! No, Adam would never. That’s talk from some of the others. They were always so thankful that it wasn’t them.”

“That day, in the courtyard, he was being punished for helping you.”

Allison nodded, voice breaking as she spoke. “It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. And not just for me. He’d jump in and take the brunt of it for others. For those he felt couldn’t handle it. The women, some of the older slaves.”

“Why?” he asked. It was a reflex, however. He already knew the answer.

“Sometimes Adam likes to do this hero thing. For everybody but himself.” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “Stupid idiot.”

“And you love that stupid idiot,” he said softly.

“He’s the only one I have left. I would do anything for him. Yeah, I love that stupid idiot.” She was crying now, not even bothering to hide it.

Kris pulled her into an embrace, pleased when he felt her return it. “Yeah. I think I know what you mean.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam all but ran over to the main house as soon as Kris silently gave him permission to leave.

He’d spent much of the day alone, trapped inside his room, not daring to step outside, not even when he knew that Kris wasn’t around to see him disobey his orders.

Now, after a tense and silent dinner where Kris had barely deigned to look at him, he was free. Not that he could blame Kris for his anger.

He’d woken up in Kris’ arms, feeling like he belonged there. Moments later, the terror had crept in. Terror at having taken things too far, at dropping his defenses, at letting Kris see too much. And like a wounded animal, the terror had caused him to lash out. He’d hated it - hated seeing Kris’ eyes deadened with hurt, hated seeing puzzlement growing into pain. And yet he didn’t stop it; couldn’t stop it.

And now he was here, walking through the slaves’ common room, desperate to find Allison, desperate for a reprieve from this strange hollow ache he held inside.

“Allie,” he whispered when he found her. He wrapped himself around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, clutching her far too tightly.

Eventually she pulled away, leading him to a secluded corner where they huddled close together.

“Are you ok, Adam?”

“It hasn’t been the best day, baby.”

“This has to do with Master Kris, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, surprised.

Guilt flashed over her features. “I’m not supposed to say anything.”

He hated pressuring her, even when he was dying to know. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Allison sighed in defeat. “No. I knew all along I was going to say something. Even when he was swearing me to secrecy.”

“Who?” Adam asked, although the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew.

“Master Kris came to see me today.”

“Oh?”

Allison nodded, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “He asked me some things about you.”

“Like what?”

“He asked about you, your past owners. And what they’ve done to you.”

Adam’s hands curled into fists, nails digging hard into his palms. “And what did you tell him?”

“Hardly anything. I don’t know anything to tell.”

He whipped his head toward the direction of the cottage. “He had no right. He had no fucking right.”

“Adam wait, don’t be mad.”

“He had no right to ask you any of those things. He should have come to me if he wanted to know so badly.”

“Didn’t he try?”

The question was water on fire, instantly damping his rising anger.

“Listen,” Allison said. “I think . . . I think he came here because he cares about you.”

Adam sagged against the worn couch, hands gesturing in dismissal. “He cares about everyone, Allie.”

“No, you idiot. God, how can you be so dense sometimes? He really cares about you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing he can see.”

“Allie . . . ”

“And last night, some of us were talking about it, when he couldn’t find you, he was frantic. And today, he didn’t ask me those things out of some sick curiosity, Adam. He’s hurting. You’ve got him all confused and frustrated and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. I mean, for crying out loud, he’s coming to me.”

“What do you want me to say, Allie?”

“Tell me why you’re pushing him away.”

“What else am I supposed to do? He owns me. Do you get that? I’m his possession.”

“Ok, I know that. But Adam, this is such a shitty world and we have, like, the shittiest places in it. Why would you deny yourself a good thing? Why would you deny yourself a small amount of peace? Maybe even happiness?”

Adam sighed. Her logic was too solid, the questions too overwhelming. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out.” She placed her hand against his cheek, the stern tone disappearing. Her voice was soft now, warm and kind. “He’s a good man, Adam. Like I told you forever ago. Let him take care of you. Let him be good to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris sat on the living room couch, eyes glued to the flickering images on the television screen. Watching, but not watching, too preoccupied with Adam to concentrate on anything else. With Adam, it always seemed to be one step forward, two steps back. Today, he figured he’d fallen back about a good half dozen.

And how did he fix things now? How did he even begin?

The creak of the opening door caught his attention and he turned to see Adam walk in. He sat up straighter, suddenly alert as Adam joined him on the couch.

Kris said his name, turned it into a question, but Adam only shook his head, picking up the remote to mute the tv.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to let me tell it. Don’t interrupt. Don’t ask questions, just let me tell it.”

There was a desperate intensity to Adam’s voice. It told Kris that they were standing at a crossroads and that his next words would determine their path. He nodded, mouth suddenly too dry to utter more than a whispered, “I can do that.”

“Ok. So. My parents sold me when I was fifteen. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“They weren’t the best parents. They struggled with drugs and alcohol for a long time. I guess they finally figured they couldn’t handle me and the drugs anymore and well . . . the drugs won. They weren’t the best parents, pretty shitty actually, but I was still devastated.

“My first owner was an older man. Frank. He was . . . he was a good man. He really was. He put up with so much of my shit. I mean, I was fifteen years old and my parents had just given me up. Talk about teenage angst. But he was so patient with me. He was so kind. He actually . . . you remind me of him sometimes.”

Kris cocked his head to the side, surprised at the unexpected compliment.

“Anyway, I was the only slave he had and I worked my ass off for him, but it was cool. I wasn’t happy, but I guess I was . . . content? And no, he never touched me. Not in anger, not in any other way. He was a good man.

“And then he died. He’d been sick . . . his heart, and one day he was just gone. He willed me to his daughter, except that she didn’t want me, so they put me up for auction. And sold me to Jamie. I was his eighteenth birthday present. He was,” Adam paused, as if searching for the right words. “He was a sadist. He liked to make things hurt. He was exceptionally good at making things hurt. He was also the one I lost my virginity to, which, by the way . . . what an experience that was. That was the night I got the first of the scars on my back. The ones you hate so much.”

Kris swallowed past his tightening throat, listening past the buzzing in his ears and nausea roiling in his stomach. He’d known this would be difficult to hear, had known it would be bad, but he hadn’t imagined just how much. And he could never have imagined just how much he’d want to kill a man he’d never met.

“‘Beg for it, Adam. Scream for me, Adam. Scream and I’ll stop, Adam.’ Jesus, I had to listen to that shit all day. The sad thing is, I tried for such a long time. I tried to be good. I tried to be what he wanted and who he wanted. But I never could. It took me a while to realize that I never would. He wanted me to fail. He wanted me to fail because he wanted to punish me. Pain, humiliation . . . those were the only things that he understood. That was all there was. And when I realized that . . . well, that’s when I started to fight.”

Adam leaned forward, raw emotion coloring his words now. “I figured, if I’m going to be punished, then fuck it. Let’s make it worthwhile. Because, fuck him, you know. Fuck him.”

Kris nodded, showing he understood.

“And that’s it,” Adam said. He drew back, voice eerily calm once again. “That’s the story. I started fighting and I guess . . . I guess I’ve never stopped. One after the other. Owner after owner. I’ve never stopped.”

It was clear that Adam had finished and yet it took several more seconds for Kris to find his voice, to trust it enough to speak without failing him. He placed a hand on Adam’s forearm, unsure if it would be welcome, still needing to try.

“Adam, you don’t have to fight anymore. You’re safe now. That’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” Adam growled, shrugging off Kris’ hand to stand, “Last night just showed me how it’s never over and why I can’t ever stop fighting.”

Kris stood as well. “Danny won’t ever touch you again. You know I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s not even about him! I know I’m safe with you, but how long is that going to last? How long until you marry someone and they don’t want me around? Or until you get sick of me? Or until something happens to you?”

“None of those things are going to happen. Adam, no, listen.” Kris grabbed Adam’s arms, tilting his head back to look into his face. Most of it was in shadow, the light from the television the only one in the room, but it was enough. “I cannot imagine a time when you’re not in my life. Do you understand that? I need you with me. Ever since that first day, in the courtyard. I somehow knew it even then.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Every time I’m where I need to be, with someone I care about, something happens. Something ruins it. Every fucking time. Going from Frank to Jamie, I had no clue. No walls, no protection. And it almost destroyed me. I can’t go through that again.”

Kris tightened his grip and stepped closer. He understood what he was seeing, and felt humbled by it, beholden to it. Adam had cut himself open, had laid himself bare so that all his deepest wounds were visible. There were no more walls, no more barriers.

Kris understood what he was receiving and it brought him to tears. He understood that this was greatest gift that Adam could ever give him. His trust.

“Adam, you’re not going through that again. Listen to me. As long as I’m breathing, no one is ever going to hurt you again. I swear it.”

Adam’s knees buckled as a small cry escaped his throat; a sound more animal than human. Kris caught him in his arms and lowered them both to the ground.

“I can’t . . . I can’t do this.”

The sobs were small, barely audible hitches of breath, but Kris heard them all the same. He wrapped his arms around Adam, wishing he could somehow pull the pain from him. Drown it, destroy it.

“Don’t fight me anymore.” He began to rock them both gently, a mother’s comfort. “Fight anything else you feel you have to, but not me.”

Adam’s hands scrabbled convulsively against Kris’ back. “I don’t want to,” he said. His voice sounded torn, roughened as if by sandpaper. “I don’t want to, but I’m so scared.”

Kris stroked at Adam’s hair, placing a soft kiss there before resting his cheek against it. “I know. But you’re safe now. You’re with me. You’re home.”


	11. Chapter 11

Kris had always enjoyed coming home. As a child, he’d loved coming home from school to run through the halls and play in the gardens. Once older, he’d go straight to his room and plop down on his bed, headphones already on and blasting his favorite music in his ears. And since moving into the cottage, he’d found it immensely satisfying to come home, throw on some sweats and relax on the couch with a cold beer, letting the stress of the day slowly slip away. Home was his sanctuary, his place of peace.

He’d always loved coming home. But these days, he found that he enjoyed it just that little bit more.

Walking into the living room after a long day at work, he found Adam on the couch, folding laundry while the stereo played in the background. Adam looked up and said hello, flashing the small grin that always warmed Kris from his head to his toes.

It hadn’t been easy, arriving at this point. Even now it wasn’t easy. Several weeks after the confession, Adam still had his moments where he backslided. There were still nights spent holding Adam while his body shook off the latest nightmare. Moments when Adam would draw deep into himself, turning quiet and morose while making it clear that Kris was not welcome. Other moments when he’d lash out, turning cold, hard and unapproachable once again.

Those moments were there, as Kris had always known they would be. But there were other moments as well. Like the Saturday that they’d both felt cooped up and bored and they took the car out to the old highway, taking turns driving it as fast as they could. Or the afternoon spent showing Adam how to play the guitar, after Adam had found it collecting dust in his closet. Or sitting on the couch, indulging in a horror movie marathon, Adam laughing and hiding his face against Kris’ arm at all the frightening parts.

Or like now. This very moment with Adam looking up at him, folding a shirt and saying, “So, you said not to make dinner. Does this mean we’re doing takeout?”

Kris took off his jacket and worked at his tie until he could slip it off. “Actually, you’re on your own tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging as he studiously avoided Adam’s eyes. “So, feel free to go up to the main house or whatever. The night is yours.”

“So, you going out with friends or are you having dinner with your parents?”

“It’s . . . I’ve got this thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

Kris lifted his gaze, surprised to see that Adam was frowning. “It’s sort of this . . . date.”

“Oh. Oh. I didn’t know you were . . . ”

“It’s a blind date,” he said hurriedly. “Some of the guys at work set it up. They think I’ve been living the life of a hermit. Or a priest. Both maybe.” He shrugged again. “They were trying to be helpful.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

“So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Living the life of a hermit. Priest. Is the point of this to get you laid?”

There was a dark undercurrent in Adam’s tone. It made Kris pause, try to comprehend it. Was it anger? Jealousy?

He quickly discarded them both. There was no reason for Adam to feel either emotion. Adam didn’t think of him like that.

“Possibly. I don’t know. It’s just a date.”

Adam nodded and returned to folding, his movements now abrupt and jerky where before they’d been fluid and relaxed.

“Adam, is there . . . ? Are you . . . ” He couldn’t quite make himself finish the question, not when he wasn’t even sure what the question was.

Adam kept folding, hands in perpetual motion. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna go get ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, staring at himself with a critical eye, raking his fingers through his hair and wishing, as always, for a few more inches of height.

The date had been a surprise, sprung on him at the last second by his friends. He’d thrown out lame excuse after lame excuse to try and get out of it, but his friends had wheedled and cajoled and in the end he’d given in and agreed to go.

And now, after hours spent convincing himself that this was the best thing for everyone, he found that he still didn’t want to go. He didn’t want a date with an unknown woman. What he wanted was Adam. After too long spent denying it, he’d finally had to admit that Matt’s words were true.

He was falling for his slave. But no, he thought, that wasn’t quite right. He had fallen for his slave. So hard and dizzyingly fast that he’d barely been aware of it happening until the bruises told him he’d landed. Hadn’t been aware until he’d held Adam in his arms and felt as every agonized sob rattled through them both. That was when he’d realized that he’d do anything, give anything, to ease Adam’s pain, to see him happy.

But Kris tended toward being a realist. He knew that a relationship with one’s slave was problematic at best, disastrous at worst. Especially with someone like Adam. Someone so courageous and fierce and proud. And so very damaged.

Sometimes Kris thought about the horrors Adam must have endured, awestruck at how he could have survived them. Sometimes he wondered how Adam could ever trust anyone again, much less allow himself to be intimate with anyone. After all that he’d been through, how could any touch ever be anything but unwelcome?

Kris knew that he would never leave Adam. He also knew that Adam had a home here as long as he wanted it. He’d been honest when he’d made that vow and those things were nonnegotiable. But he also had to accept the very likely idea that Adam would never want him as he wanted Adam. He had to accept it, no matter how much the thought of it hurt. No matter how much he wished it different.

“Right?” he asked out loud, staring pointedly at his reflection as if it had the power to solve the dilemma.

But of course there was no answer, no wealth of knowledge seeping from the glass. Just the mirror showing him the confused and overwhelmed young man he really was.

He sighed and walked away from it, back out to the living room where Adam still sat, folded clothes beside him.

“All right. I guess I’m ready,” he announced.

Adam turned to look at him, face expressionless.

“How do I look?” Kris asked, more to fill the silence than anything.

But Adam gave no answer, just continued to look at him with that eerie, blank stare.

“Adam? I look that bad?”

Finally, Adam’s face softened. “You look great,” he said, voice low and muted. “She’s not going to know what hit her.”

Kris swallowed past the tightening of his throat. “Thank you.” He tried a smile, but felt it falter and gave up. “You don’t have to wait up,” he said as he walked to the door. “Goodnight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam sat facing the closed door long after Kris had departed, eyes open yet not seeing, mired deep in his thoughts.

Thoughts about Kris, who was so much more than his master. But exactly what, Adam couldn’t pinpoint. Their boundaries were blurring, redefining themselves to the point where neither he nor Kris seemed to be in control of them.

There was a large part of him, a disturbingly large part, that wanted to go after him and ask him not to go. He was sorely tempted, more so because he had an inkling that Kris would stay.

But what was he supposed to say?

Sir, I know that you have a chance to go out with a woman who’s probably rich, young and gorgeous, but wouldn’t you rather stay here with me, your crazy, fucked up slave who’s more trouble than he’s worth?

He coughed out a bitter laugh at the thought. Yes, because he had so much to offer Kris - a frigid touch, scarred body and caustic attitude were such positive qualities.

No, it was better to stay here and let Kris have his chance with the mystery woman, someone sane and whole who belonged in his world. He would stay and wait, and when Kris came back, he would be happy for him.

Or he would pretend to be. And that, he decided, was almost as good.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kris had seen the lights on in the house from outside. He’d known, walking inside, that Adam was still awake.

What he hadn’t quite expected was for Adam to be sitting at the exact same place on the couch as earlier, almost as if he’d never moved.

“You’re home early,” Adam said, glancing at a nonexistent wristwatch.

“Really? It feels late.”

“So, how did it go?”

Kris shrugged. “It was . . . ok.”

Adam motioned with his hand for him to continue. “Details, sir. You have to give details.”

Kris rolled his eyes but smiled, his first real one of the night. “We went to dinner. Then we went to a movie. And then I drove her home and gave her a kiss goodnight.”

“So, you did like her.”

Kris sat down next to Adam, careful to keep a safe distance. “I kissed her on the cheek. Like the gentleman that I am. And then I drove back here.”

“Kiss on the cheek, huh? So she was a dog?”

Kris laughed. “No. She was . . . she was gorgeous actually.”

“So, what? Nothing going on upstairs?”

“No. She was gorgeous and smart and funny. She’s an amazing girl.”

“So, you’re going to see her again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Now I’m confused. If she’s so great, then why don’t you want to see her again?”

Kris sighed, tipping his head back on the couch before turning it to look at Adam, the truth slipping from him before he could think to hold it back. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He regretted it an instant later when he saw the look on Adam’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.” He sat up, rubbing a hand against his mouth as if that could magically make the words go away. It didn’t of course. They were still there, hanging in the air, obvious and uncomfortable. He shied away from Adam’s sharp eyes, moving to stand. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

The feel of Adam’s fingers slipping around his wrist stopped him. He looked down, surprised to see them there, not really comprehending why they would be, before raising his gaze to Adam’s face.

He was beautiful in his intensity; brow furrowed, eyes piercing. Beautiful as he began to lean forward, inch by excruciating inch. Time stretched and slowed, almost to the point of stilling, and Kris had enough time to think that this would never happen, that Adam was taking too long, it couldn’t possibly . . . when he felt Adam’s lips touch against his own.

It was everything that first kiss was and yet so much more; chaste, too brief, but somehow perfect.

Struck mute by the enormity of it, Kris asked his questions with his eyes. Adam nodded, understanding, before tilting forward again and whispering, “More.”

This kiss was different, both of them pulling apart and coming back together, over and over, like the waves of a tide, and each time they did, it lasted a little longer, grew a little deeper, until Kris felt lost in it.

He was reaching sensory overload, everything turning frantic and urgent too quickly. He pulled away, panting harshly as he willed his heart to slow. “I’m going to have a problem stopping if we keep going at this rate,” he said.

“Who says I want you to stop?”

“What?” he asked, unsure if he’d heard correctly

“I don’t want you to stop,” Adam said, slow and deliberate. Then he smiled. “Clear enough for you?”

“No,” Kris said, shaking his head. “This is too soon. You can’t possibly be ready for this.”

Adam caught his gaze, kept it. “I’m not a blushing virgin, sir. And I know what I want.”

“Adam . . . ”

“I want you. I want us.”

“Because you’re grateful?”

It was then that Adam’s confidence seemed to falter, just the tiniest bit. “You let me worry about my reasons.”

Kris was silent, still shaking his head, flipping through his options like a man flipping through a deck of cards. Things were moving so fast, and he was so unprepared, never imaging that things would happen like this.

“Sir," Adam said, clasping their hands together. “I know you feel you have to protect me, but you don’t have to protect me from this. I’m a grown man. I can make decisions for myself.”

“I should be sending you to your room right now and taking a long, cold shower.” Kris laughed, shaky and unstable. “But Adam, I want you so bad.”

“I know. And I’m here. And I believe you promised me that it would be good.”

“Yeah, I think I said amazing. I might have over-hyped myself.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Kris nodded and stood. Final card in hand, decision made, he held out his hand for Adam to take.

The last time Adam had offered, he’d offered in desperation. There was no trace of desperation now. Kris couldn’t be certain of the exact reasons, couldn’t be sure that gratitude wasn’t one of them, but he did know one thing. He knew that this felt right.

Inside the bedroom, he made to turn on the light, but Adam whispered, “In the dark. Please,” so he let it be.

He let the moonlight guide them onto the bed, pulling his shirt up and over his head before helping Adam with his own. He placed his palms against Adam’s chest, splaying his fingers wide, needing to touch.

Adam drew in a breath, shuddering underneath him and Kris whispered, “Are you sure?”

His answer was a kiss; languid and wet and sloppy. Different from the others, but just as perfect.

The rest of their clothing was discarded between kisses until they both sat on the bed, naked and vulnerable in the dark.

Kris ran his hand down Adam’s side, noting the small squirm that meant he was ticklish. “Wait,” he said, “Lean forward just a little.”

He could feel rather than see Adam’s confusion, but he still did as asked. Kris moved his hands to the back of Adam’s neck, undoing the clasp of the slave collar before slipping it off and tossing it on the ground.

“Sir, you shouldn’t . . . ”

“Sh . . . ” Kris said, nudging at Adam’s throat. He dropped his hand between Adam’s legs, wrapping it around him to move with firm, even strokes. “That’s not my name.”

Kris could hear Adam’s breathing speeding up. He began to move his hand faster. “Say my name, Adam.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he murmured against Adam’s skin. “My name is Kris. It’s simple.”

Adam’s low, guttural moan told him he was doing something right. He twisted his hand, stroking even faster, his hand against Adam’s back to hold him in place. He was kissing in earnest now, using his teeth to nip lightly at Adam’s collarbone, at his shoulder.

“Say my name.”

Adam clutched at Kris’ shoulders, his body trembling as if he would fall apart. “Kris,” he said, calling out the name in a broken cry. “Kris. Kris.”

Kris wrapped his body around Adam’s, holding him as he threw his head back and his body went rigid, coaxing him through spasm after spasm of release.

He held him until Adam stirred, loose-limbed and laughing softly. “Wow.”

Reluctantly, Kris pulled away. “Yeah?” he asked, voice sounding far too young and hopeful for his taste.

Adam ran his fingers across Kris’ throat, down his chest to the inside of his thigh. “Mm . . . very. And now, I believe it’s your turn.” And with that, he fell back against the bed, pulling Kris with him.

“The condoms are down in the drawer. I have to . . .”

“You’re clean, aren’t you?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you know I am.” Then he whispered up into Kris’ ear. “Just don’t get me pregnant.”

Kris smiled at the comment; so very Adam. “I don’t have anything,” he admitted. “I usually only . . . you know . . . with girls.”

In the dark, Adam found Kris’ hand, still sticky wet. “I think we can make due.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Kris whispered.

Adam nodded. “I know. And you’re talking way too much.” He shifted then, as if about to turn over.

“Wait, can I . . . ?” Kris said, stilling him with a simple touch. “I want to see you. Can we . . . ”

Adam’s answer was to settle back and pull Kris even closer between his legs.

Kris placed a tender kiss against Adam’s lips, moving to bestow more upon his closed eyelids, his cheeks, his nose. Then he pressed forward, using his hand to guide him, and entered Adam slowly.

It was everything he’d imagined it would be - the hot, tight friction - but so much more. So much more because this was Adam. Adam with his ice blue eyes and wicked sense of humor. Adam, who was trusting him with everything - body and soul.

He tried to pace himself, to make it last, but it was almost an exercise in futility. It had been too long and Adam felt too good under him, around him. He finally gave up and stopped fighting it, giving himself over to the building pleasure until it took him over and he dropped his forehead to Adam’s shoulder, muffling his groan against Adam’s sweat-slick skin.

He gave himself time to catch his breath, waiting until he could think like a proper person, before propping himself up on his elbows to give Adam the long, languid kiss of the truly sated.

And that’s when he tasted the salt of tears.

Kris pulled away, staring down in dumbfounded shock, hoping that he was wrong.

But he wasn’t. Adam was crying. But these weren’t the harsh sobs from the other night. Now he was nearly silent, only a small trickle of tears to give it away.

The elation he’d felt only moments ago turned to misery. “Oh, God. I hurt you didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Adam, I’m so sorry.”

Adam placed a hand on either side of Kris’ face. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“You’re crying, Adam. Of course I hurt you. Fuck. I fucked everything up.”

“Sir . . . Kris. I don’t . . . I don’t know how to explain it, but these aren’t bad tears.”

Kris used his thumb to wipe one away. “How can they not be bad tears?” he asked, feeling near tears himself.

Adam shook his head. “Trust me on this. Just . . . yeah?”

“I . . . ”

“No regrets,” he said. He turned, Kris having no choice but to follow until they were lying on their sides, facing each other. Kris placed his palm against Adam’s cheek, feeling the drying tears, helpless as to how to proceed.

“Adam, I only wanted to . . . ”

“I know.” Adam leaned forward, giving Kris a small, chaste peck before hiding his face against Kris’ shoulder. “But I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now. Tomorrow? Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course. Yeah.”

“But no regrets. I promise. No regrets.”

Kris pulled the blankets up over them, making sure they were both covered before settling against his pillow. What could he do but wait as Adam asked? It would kill him, almost guarantee a sleepless night, but he would wait. With Adam in his arms, he would wait.

He placed a kiss atop Adam’s head and whispered, “No regrets.”


	12. Chapter 12

At some point during the night, exhaustion won out over anxiety and Kris fell asleep.

He woke hours later to find daylight flooding the room and a pair of familiar blue eyes gazing at him, bright and intent.

He was alert in an instant, muscles locking to sit up, but settled back when he saw that Adam was smiling.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

He ran a hand over Adam’s shoulder, relishing the softness, the fact that this intimate gesture was now allowed. “How long have you been awake?”

Adam shrugged, the hand tucked under his chin making him appear innocent and angelic. “A little while. Half an hour maybe. Not sure.”

“And you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

“Not the whole time, but mostly. You’re cute when you sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. You look like you’re five.”

Kris laughed. “Nice.”

Adam’s answering grin held a touch of crooked slyness. “I meant that in the best possible way.”

“Right,” he said. Stilling laughing, he rolled his eyes as he felt the morning call of nature. “I need the bathroom. Promise me you won’t run away.”

“I promise I’ll be right here.”

Once inside, he didn’t hurry. He knew there was a 50/50 chance that Adam might not be there when he went back. He also knew that it wouldn’t matter in the end. That if he had to find Adam and talk him down, step away for a while, he would do it, gladly, because in the end, things would be all right.

When finished, he opened the adjoining door to the bedroom and stepped out. And even though he thought he had mentally prepared himself for any eventuality, he found himself sighing with relief at seeing that Adam was still there. And Adam, tangled up in the sheets of his bed, black hair mussed against the pillows, was nothing short of a vision. Kris stilled, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight, until it literally became too much, until Adam’s beauty tore at his heart, causing it to ache.

He ran a hand over his chest before sliding back into bed and propping himself up on one elbow. He noted the way that Adam was watching him. There was no trace of fear in his countenance, just a steady, expectant calm.

Kris understood what that meant - it was time to have the conversation that they’d started last night, the one that Adam had forestalled.

“You’re not freaking out,” Kris said. It was both statement and question.

“No,” Adam said simply, promptly. Then he smiled, looking sheepish. “Maybe a little. But I’m controlling it well, I think.”

“Well, you’re here and not making angry breakfast. I think that’s a good sign.”

“Yeah, well . . . I figured this time, breakfast can wait.”

Kris traced the lines of Adam’s face with his thumb, recalling the spill of tears, now long dry. “Tell me why you were crying?”

Turning over onto his back, Adam sighed. “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“Not a chance.”

Adam stared straight up at the ceiling, brow creased as if mulling over the words and how to present them. “I guess I was just a little overwhelmed,” he finally said. “I’ve never . . . ” he paused, issuing another soft sigh. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t much in the way of a response, but as confused as he was by Adam’s answer, it was all he could come up with.

Adam, sensing his confusion, turned back over to face him. And where before his voice had been quiet and hesitant, now it nearly burned with intensity.

“Sex with my past owners was always just for them. It was meant to fulfill whatever little fantasy they wanted to fulfill. I didn’t matter at all. I was always just a warm body, not a human being. Never a person.”

“Those are the only times you’ve ever . . . ?”

“There were other times, with other slaves. But it was always in the dark, quick and dirty. Stress release. Nothing more than that.”

Kris listened, trying to take it all in. It was rare that Adam ever talked about himself or his past. Moments like this, unguarded and honest, were special enough that Kris always paid attention, drinking in every word as if he could commit each to memory.

“You know how there are some things that you hear about,” Adam continued, “things you just wish so badly that you could experience and understand? And you’d give anything to, anything at all, but you know that you probably never will?”

Kris nodded to show that he understood, because hadn’t he felt that way about Adam? “Yeah. I do know.”

“Yeah. That was last night, with you. And it was just a little . . . ”

“Overwhelming,” Kris said, finishing for him.

“Overwhelming.” Then Adam smiled. “But in a good way. In a really good way.”

Kris lifted Adam’s hand, interlacing their fingers, marveling at how well they fit together. “Thank you.” And then he lifted their joined hands to his mouth, settling a light kiss against Adam’s wrist.

Adam’s eyes grew seemed to grow larger, darker. “For what?”

“For trusting me. For letting me see you. For last night. For coming into my life. For everything. Just . . . for everything.”

Adam shook his head. “No. You have it all wrong. I should be thanking you.”

“No.”

“But I never do, do I?” Adam’s hand tightened in Kris’, grip just on the verge of painful. He began to speak faster, growing breathless. “I never say it. I never show it.”

“Hey, whoa. Stop. It’s ok. I don’t need you to thank me. That’s not the point. That’s never been the point.”

“Then what is?”

Kris pulled Adam closer with a tug. “This.” Then he wrapped his arms around the larger man, effectively ending the conversation with long, careful kiss.

Afterward, they lay together for as long as they could, enjoying the silence and stillness of the morning until the ringing of the alarm clock mercilessly ended it.

Kris sighed, stirred. “I have to go.”

“I know,” Adam said. “Work beckons.”

“Yeah, something always does.”

They both stood, each on their respective sides of the bed. As Kris watched, Adam bent down, picked up the slave collar from the floor and placed it around his neck. He watched as Adam fumbled with it, fingers not quite able to secure it into place.

Kris walked to stand behind him and placed his hands on the collar, stilling Adam. “Here.”

He was quick and efficient, and within a few seconds Adam turned around, collar in place.

They stood very close, close enough that Kris was forced to tilt his head back to look at Adam. “You don’t know how much I wish . . . ” he began.

Adam shook his head, his smile full of sweetness and sorrow. “I know, sir. I know.” And then Adam was kissing him, merely a ghost of a touch, before walking past him and out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Kris drove down the narrow city streets, navigating them perfectly despite being torn between watching the road and watching Adam.

They had taken the convertible today (upon Adam’s insistence), the top down (also on Adam’s insistence), and the way the wind ruffled Adam’s hair, the way the sun kissed his face, made it almost a crime not gaze upon him.

The road was obviously important, but Adam was so gorgeous with his eyes closed against the sun, head leaning back against the headrest, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

But it was more than any of those things, Kris thought as he fixed his eyes back on the road. Adam looked gorgeous because he looked happy, carefree. It suited him, this look, this new frame of mind.

“Where to now?” Adam asked, voice loud enough to be heard over the rush of the wind.

Kris glanced at the dashboard clock, noting both the hour and the fact that his stomach was growling. They’d been shopping for hours, an activity for which Adam seemed to have a natural affinity. “I was thinking lunch. There’s this place not too far from here. They make the best risotto.”

“Risotto?” Adam said, opening his eyes and turning to face Kris. “Is that even a word?”

Kris laughed. “It is. And it’s delicious.”

“I don’t know . . . it sounds fattening. And I’m already getting so bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Kris asked, incredulous. “You’re not getting fat.”

“I’ve gained fifteen pounds since you bought me.”

“That’s because you’re finally eating like a normal human being. Besides, I think the extra pounds look good on you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Kris placed a hand on Adam’s leg, giving a small squeeze. “Have I ever lied to you? Am I lying now when I tell you that you’re the most beautiful thing ever?”

Adam rolled his eyes and laughed. “Fine. Risotto it is.”

They arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, parked the car and made their way inside.

The restaurant served Italian, and although it was exclusive, it was small and cozy enough not to feel that way.

At the entrance, Kris walked up to the maitre d, Adam lagging behind a few paces as was customary and acceptable for a slave.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Two please.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man said, eyes flitting to Adam before coming back to Kris. “But we don’t serve slaves in this area.”

“Oh?”

“We have a separate area where your slave can dine . . . ”

Kris had heard about this, more and more establishments imposing these rules of segregation. He just hadn’t known that one of his favorite restaurants was participating. All the times he’d been here and he’d never really noticed. He risked a glance back at Adam, saw that he had schooled his features into a blank mask. He knew that Adam was preparing for the separation, for the inevitable humiliation that would come from being placed in a hidden room like a dirty secret.

By the time he’d turned back to the maitre d, he’d already decided that wasn’t going to happen. “That’s not acceptable.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but policy is policy.”

“I understand the policy. And like to speak to your manager,” Kris said

The man looked completely affronted but he nodded before leaving to find him.

As soon as he was gone, Adam whispered, “What are you doing? It’s fine. I can eat in there.”

“Sh . . . trust me.”

“Sir . . . ”

“Trust me.”

“Is there a problem, sir?”

Kris turned to find the maitre d standing behind an older, distinguished-looking gentleman. “You’re the manager?”

The man gave a small bow. “My name’s William. How can I help you?”

“My name’s Kris Allen. Does that name mean anything to you?”

William’s brow creased, obviously searching through his memory for the name. “Allen?”

“As in Allen Enterprises. Allen Industrial. Allen Plaza.”

At that, William seemed to pale ever so slightly. “You’re Kristopher Allen?”

Kris pulled out his wallet, opening it so that his driver’s license was visible. “I am. And all I’m asking is that you seat me and Adam together at a table and serve us both. You can put us in the back, in a shady corner so we don’t cause a commotion if you want. In fact, we’d prefer it.”

William’s demeanor, which had been polite but cool, changed immediately. Now he was apologetic, solicitous. “Oh, no. Of course, sir. Of course. I didn’t realize. I apologize.”

“None needed, believe me.”

“We’ll get you seated right away, sir.”

Kris nodded, acknowledging the favor with a smile. “Thank you.”

Minutes later they were seated at a secluded corner table, menus in hand. Adam waited until their waiter had walked away before leaning across the table and hissing, “What did you just do?”

Kris shrugged. “I name-dropped. It’s not something I usually do, but the occasion seemed to call for it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. I’m not supposed to be in here. They don’t want me here.”

Kris leaned over the table, suddenly angry. Not at Adam, never at Adam, but at the callousness and cruelty of the entire system. “You know what, Adam? Fuck them. You’re every bit as good as they are and you have every right to sit and eat with me.”

Adam bowed his head, dropping his gaze to his lap.

Kris sighed. “Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you really don’t want to stay, we can go.”

Adam shook his head, remaining silent for a few more moments before finally lifting it. “No, I’m ok. You’re right. Fuck them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok,” Kris said, smiling as he leaned back. “So what are you gonna get?”

“Well, since apparently you like me fat . . . let’s get the damn risotto.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal was unhurried and pleasant, the food just as good as Kris had remembered. Of course, none of it would have been enjoyable had Adam still felt uncomfortable. But the longer they had been there, the more relaxed Adam had become. By the time they had their dessert menus at hand, Adam seemed perfectly at ease.

“I don’t know if I can eat anything else,” Adam said, eyes roaming over the menu and its choices. “I’m so full.”

“Come on, get something. You know you want to. You only live once.”

“I know but . . . ” Adam groaned and patted his stomach. “I’m gonna have to start exercising after this.”

Kris peered down at the menu, at all the tempting desserts. “We could split something. You’d eat half of something with me, wouldn’t you?”

Kris waited for Adam's answer, but there was only silence.

He looked up, prepared to ask the question again, when he caught sight of Adam’s face.

Adam was looking at neither him nor the menu. He was staring at something beyond Kris’ shoulder. Staring at it as if afraid.

“Adam? What’s the matter?”

Adam lowered his head, the menu slipping from trembling hands to the floor.

Kris turned around, trying to seek out the source of Adam’s distress. But there was nothing. No one except a man being escorted to a nearby table.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Can we go? Can we please just go?”

“Adam?”

Kris turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It was the man who was being seated near them, who was now making his way over to them. He was tall, blond, built like a wrestler, and completely unknown to Kris.

“It is you!” the man said. “I thought as much. You a free man now?” He squinted, leaned forward, saw the collar. “No. Still a slave, I see.”

“Excuse me,” Kris said. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Jamie Bretner.” He held out his hand for Kris to shake. After a moment’s hesitation, Kris did.

“Kris Allen,” he said, mind racing as he tried to place why the name sounded vaguely familiar.

“The Kris Allen. Wow. It’s a pleasure.” Jamie ended the handshake and took a step back. “I used to own Adam. I take it you’re his new master?”

And then it hit him. This was Jaime. Adam’s second master. To ensure privacy, a slave’s official files never listed the names of previous owners. Adam hadn’t given Jamie’s last name and Kris hadn’t pressed, figuring it best to leave the past alone. But now, the past was here. And Adam’s past just happened to be a monster hiding behind expensive designer clothes and a genteel demeanor.

Kris ignored the question and pulled the car keys from his pocket, placing them in Adam’s hand. “Adam. Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Adam looked up him, gaze uncomprehending. He appeared dazed, trapped in a time warp of memory.

“Go,” he said as gently as he could. “I’ll be right there.”

He watched as Adam slowly stood up and walked past them, eyes avoiding Jamie as if he were poison. He waited patiently until he saw Adam exit the restaurant, then he turned back to the other man.

“So, Kris . . . ”

“Don’t,” he said sharply. The anger he had felt at Danny assaulting Adam was nothing compared to what he felt now. In his mind’s eye he could see himself hurting this man, making him pay for what he’d done to Adam. He could see himself enjoying it. And that frightened him, but not as much as it should have.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t use my name like that. Like we’re friends. Like we’re the same.”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He was careful to keep his voice down, knowing how easy attention was to attract in a place like this. “I should knock your fucking teeth out for what you’ve done.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t even know you.”

“I’m talking about Adam and what you did to him. I know you weren’t the only one that hurt him, but you were the worst, weren’t you? And not just because of the things that you did to him, but because you were the first. God, and you don’t even care, do you? You don’t even care that you nearly destroyed another human being. What kind of a fucking animal are you?”

“Last time I checked, Adam was a slave, which means I could do whatever I wanted. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t care how fucking rich you are.”

“You should care,” Kris said, stepping back, voice surprisingly level considering the level of his fury. “If I were you, I’d watch my back. I know your name now.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Kris pulled his wallet from his pocket, taking out enough money to cover the bill and then some. He threw it on the table before turning back to Jamie. “Take it how you like.” Then he turned and walked away, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having rattled the other man.

No, he thought, he’d more than rattled him. Jamie was scared. And he had good reason to be. The threat was vague but not idle. Kris fully intended to find some way make him pay for the damage he’d inflicted upon Adam.

Kris was halfway to the exit when he stopped and turned. Something felt wrong, incomplete and he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave until he figured out what it was.

He stood there, mulling it over for a few seconds before it came to him.

He wasn’t done with Jamie Bretner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Kris found Adam sitting in the car, waiting for him just like he’d been told. He got in the car, took the keys from Adam and started the engine, letting it idle.

“What did you do?” Adam asked.

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

Kris shrugged. “I threw a vague threat at him.”

“That’s all?”

“I might have punched him.”

Adam choked out a broken, little laugh. “You’re getting to be quite the brawler.”

Kris shifted in the seat until he was facing Adam. He ran his fingers through Adam’s dark hair, over and over again, knowing that this would soothe him. “Are you ok?”

Adam was staring down at his lap, his long fingers twisting against each other almost violently. “I don’t know. I never thought I’d see him again. Never thought he’d be anything but a bad memory.”

“I'm going to take you home.”

Adam twisted closer to Kris, hiding his face behind one hand, while the other clutched desperately at Kris' thigh. “Please. Please take me home.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam couldn’t sleep.

Kris had been so kind, asking him over and over if he was ok; if he wanted to talk about it. But what was there to say? What did one say when nightmares become reality, when the ghost that haunts you becomes living flesh?

So instead, he’d been quiet, drawing into himself, while Kris tried to fix something that couldn’t be fixed.

Adam had finally asked for some space and Kris had obliged him as much as he could within the small house.

That had been three days ago. Three days and nothing was better, nothing felt right. Not since Jamie had come back into his life.

Adam had taken his collar off when he’d gone to bed, allowable when not sleeping in the presence of one’s master. Now he picked it back up from the floor, clutching it tight in his hand.

He made his way from his to Kris’ room in the dark. He’d traversed the distance enough times to avoid a misstep. He slid into the occupied bed, wrapping an arm around Kris’ waist, bringing his chest flush against his back. Then he rested his forehead along Kris’ shoulder and waited. He knew it wouldn’t be long, that Kris had an almost unnatural ability to wake at the slightest disturbance. Seconds later Kris was stirring, mumbling as he pushed himself into alertness.

“It’s just me,” Adam said, whispering against his skin.

“Adam?”

Adam nodded, knowing Kris would feel the movement. Then he placed the slave collar against Kris’ hands. It was a question, one that Kris would understand.

Kris took the collar and tossed it to the floor. “No, of course not.”

Adam nodded. He’d known all along that would be the answer, but he still felt as if he had to present the question.

“I need you,” he said. And really, it was so much more complicated than that, but those were the only words that he could conjure.

“I’m right here,” Kris answered, turning in his arms at last so they were face to face; so very close.

Adam placed a chaste kiss upon Kris’ lips. Then another and another, suddenly not so chaste. He still found himself amazed at how much he actually enjoyed this. With Kris as his teacher, he was learning that intimacy didn’t have to be about pain and the ways to inflict it. He was learning that these acts were good things, sweet things, and meant to be enjoyed. Savored.

Kris draped his leg over Adam’s hip, voice husky as he said, “I want to try something different.”

“Oh?” Adam arched an eyebrow, wondering at the new lesson.

“I want you inside of me.”

Adam pulled away in surprise. “We’re not supposed to do that. A slave should always -”

“I know. I know how it’s supposed to work, but you can tell that I’m not always big on convention.”

“I don’t know . . . ”

“Unless you don’t want to,” Kris said. He was serious now, all the teasing and seduction gone from his voice. “I understand if you don’t want to.”

But Adam did want to. Ever since the night of the big party, when Kris had unconsciously presented himself to him, Adam had wanted.

“I do, it’s just . . . ” He paused, trying to figure out how to explain the roiling anger within him, just below the surface of him. He couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t lose control of it, maybe end up hurting them both. “The frame of mind I’m in . . . ”

“I know. That’s exactly why this will be good thing. For both of us.”

“I don’t know, Kris.”

Kris licked along Adam’s lower lip, rolling them both over so that Adam now loomed over him. Then he pulled away and smiled. It was a strange smile; mischievous, full of dark promise. “I’m not a blushing virgin either,” he said. “I can handle whatever you give me.”

Adam gazed down on Kris, so pretty, so open for him, only for him, and uttered one single, soft word.

Yes.

It was so different, Kris underneath him. He held him, a hand on each side of Kris’ face and kissed him. Hard, too rough, too fast. But Kris responded and the charge of it - the pure, electric charge of being the one in control was almost overwhelming. He slipped one hand to the back of Kris’ head, fingers tangling in the short strands, and tugged gently. Kris’ head tipped back, the line of his throat exposed, his mouth, slick and wet, parting. Adam placed kisses all along Kris’ skin, from his strong jawline to the slope of his shoulder. Kisses interlaced with bites, hard enough to mark skin red.

He pulled away long enough to breathe out, “There’s a part of me that wants to hurt you.”

“It’s ok. I know. But I also know you won’t. Not really.”

“You don’t know . . . how can you know?”

Kris arched off the bed, just enough for his mouth to be level with Adam’s ear. “I trust you,” he whispered simply.

He eased backed down, his hands wrapped around Adam’s upper arms. “Make me feel it, Adam.”

The words sent a shiver through his body - desire, but so much more. More because Adam understood now. Understood what Kris was offering.

Trust worked both ways. He had trusted Kris, now Kris was trusting him. He was giving him power and trusting that he would not abuse it.

He was careful, oh so careful when he finally pushed inside, searching Kris’ face for signs of pain. And the signs were there. Despite the slow, deliberate care he was taking, the signs were there; the small winces, Kris’ lips parting as he gasped, the way his hands flexed involuntarily against him. All there and for a brief moment, Adam wondered at the deceptiveness of pain and pleasure and how easily they could disguise themselves as the other.

He paused only when he was settled deep inside of Kris, flush against him. “Ok?”

At some point, Kris had closed his eyes. Now he opened them, tightening his grip on Adam’s arms so that nails dug into the skin. “Make me feel it.”

It was both an invitation and a challenge, one that Adam had no power to deny.

All their other times together had been slow and sweet. Movements had been tender, gentle.

Adam wasn’t gentle, but he knew Kris didn’t want him to be.

He knew that he should be savoring every moment, he’d wanted this for so long. For once to be in control, to take instead of having to give. And it was finally happening, but it was all so much. The delicious friction, the heat of Kris’ body, the obscene sounds coming from that beautiful mouth. Sinful sounds; wicked.

He promised himself that if this ever happened again, if Kris once again granted him control, that he would go slowly. He would draw things out, make it last, commit every touch to memory.

But not this night. Tonight, things were moving too quickly, and each small sensation was now one. Growing from the center of him, spreading outward, the pleasure consumed him until that was all there was. Until he cried out, his mouth against Kris’ shoulder, teeth piercing the skin, marking him, claiming him as surely as if he had collared him.

Afterward, they lay curled around each other, warm and sated. After three sleeplessness nights, Adam’s exhaustion had finally caught up to him, making it next to impossible for him to keep his eyes open.

“Thank you,” he said, words slurring against his tongue.

“For tonight?” Kris asked. “That was for both of us, you know that.”

“Not just that. For all of it. The fantasy.” He sighed, feeling the pull of sleep dragging him down, but determined to say what he needed to say. Maybe it was easier this way, when they were both of them tired and content, to spill out truths. “When I’m with you, I feel like I think a man should feel. I feel whole.”

“Adam . . . ”

“It feels good, even if it isn’t real.”

He felt Kris’ arms hold him tighter, felt the safety within them. And now he could let go, let himself fall into sleep. Now that he’d finally told Kris what he should have told him long ago.

He didn’t even hear it when Kris answered him. Proverbially dead to the world, he didn’t feel the way Kris’ arms tightened around him by one more fraction.

“Sometimes fantasy becomes reality, Adam.”


	14. Chapter 14

Kris was nervous.

He didn’t think he would be; he’d been planning this long enough, had all the details straight, had rehearsed his speech a thousand times over.

And yet the fine tremors in his hands as he struggled with the front door showed him just how little all that planning truly mattered.

He finally managed to unlock the door after what felt like several frustrating minutes and stepped inside the house. A quick look around told him that Adam wasn’t in the living room nor the kitchen. He was just about to head toward Adam’s bedroom when the sound of a guitar being gently strummed caught his attention.

Like a sailor drawn to his siren’s song, he followed those sounds to Adam’s bedroom. There he found the siren himself, sitting in the middle of the bed, guitar in his lap, playing simple chords with the intense concentration of a beginner.

“Getting pretty good there,” he said after a while, smiling as he leaned against the doorframe.

Adam looked up, blushed and returned the smile. “You’re just saying that. But thank you.” He turned his head toward the clock on his night stand, frowning in confusion when he saw the time. “You’re home early.”

Kris nodded, his heart pounding an uneven rhythm within his chest. “Well, I have a surprise for you and I couldn’t wait to give it to you.”

“Really?” Adam asked. The expression on his face was somewhere between gleeful and suspicious. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to come outside to see.”

Adam gave him a long, measuring look before setting the guitar aside and following Kris out to the living room.

Kris walked to the coffee table and took off his jacket. He pulled two items from deep within its pockets, setting them down on the table before flinging the jacket to the couch.

Adam looked down at the two small jewelry boxes, looked back up at Kris.

“What’s going on?”

Kris stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. This was it, all the nights spent awake planning out every little detail, imagining and trying to prepare for the hundred ways it could go and it all came down to this moment. “Open them.”

Adam sat down on the couch and reached for the box on the left, popping it open, then staring at it in puzzlement. “It’s a key.”

“Now open the other one.”

Adam shot him a quick glance before picking up the other box and opening it. “It’s another key,” he said as he set it back down. “I don’t get it. What do they open?”

Kris pulled his hands from his pockets, found them sweaty and hot. He rubbed them against his pants as he began to pace. All the planning, his perfectly rehearsed speech and now he couldn’t remember a single word of it. He sighed. “I had this all rehearsed, but fuck if I can remember any of it. So, I’m just going to come out and say it, ok?”

“Ok . . . ”

Kris forced himself to stop, turning so he could look into Adam’s eyes. “I bought your freedom.”

“You what?”

“I bought your freedom. Well, I started the process a couple of weeks ago, but it just became official today.”

Adam stood and his face looked hard, troubled. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“Then I don’t understand . . . ”

Kris took a deep breath, relieved to find that he was growing calmer. “The key on the left is the key to our new place. It’s an apartment in the city. It’s huge . . . nice, you’ll like it, but it’s really only temporary.”

“Temporary?”

“Well, eventually I’d want to get a house, but I want us to pick it out together.” He looked around. “I mean, this place is nice, but I think it’s about time I really moved out on my own, you know?”

“I think . . . maybe . . . I don’t know?”

“Ok, basically, the key on the left is the happily-ever-after key.”

“And the one on the right?”

Kris nodded, eyes shifting to the other box. He hated talking about this one, but he knew that he had to. He had to give Adam the choice. “The key to another apartment. It’s smaller, but still nice. The lease is under your name and it’s paid up for six months. This one also comes with a bank account set up in your name. It’s got enough in it to let you live comfortably for a few months. Until you decide what you want to do with the rest of your life.”

He paused for breath, watching Adam’s face for a sign, any clue as to what he might be thinking. But Adam was giving nothing away, so Kris gestured aimlessly at the table and said, “This is obviously, the bad key.”

“Sir, this is . . . um . . . this is crazy. Why didn’t . . . why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s Kris. You don’t ever have to call me sir again,” Kris said, making it a gentle reminder. “And, I don’t know . . . I guess I wanted to surprise you.” He tried on a smile, finding it tremulous and weak.

“Look, I’m not doing this right, I know,” he continued. “I just . . . Adam, the thing is . . . I love you. I’m madly, head-over-heels in love with you. And I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want us to be master-slave anymore. I want you with me, but as my equal. I want you to be your own man. I want you to be whole.”

Adam’s eyes widened at the declaration, then immediately softened, and Kris could have sworn he saw the shimmer of unshed tears in them. “That’s what happens if I take the good key?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And if I take the bad key?”

Kris nodded, taking a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky laugh. “Well . . . it’ll hurt like hell. But . . . I’d understand if that’s what you wanted. This is about you, Adam. What you want. For once, you get to make all the decisions.” He smiled softly. “Actually, you should get used to it. You’re going to be making all your own decisions for a long time to come.”

Adam shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process. Watching him, Kris wondered if he’d gone about this all wrong. If he was throwing too much at Adam too soon.

“What about Allie?” Adam asked suddenly.

“She’ll come with me,” Kris said. “Whether you do or not. I’ll take good care of her. Until I can free her too. I don’t want her spending her life as a slave. She deserves better than that.”

“Yeah, she does,” Adam said, his voice taking on the tone of protective pride whenever he talked about her. Then, as if just realizing the enormity of what Kris was offering, he fell back onto the couch. “Kris, this is . . . it’s too much. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you. I should have prepared you. I’m sorry.”

“I need . . . can I think about this? I can’t just . . . ”

Kris hurried over to the couch, sitting beside Adam, grasping one of his hands within his own. “You can think about it as long as you need to.” And although it hurt to say it, almost as if he were tearing away a vital part of himself, he whispered, “Take the bad key. Think about it. You can come back to me when you’re ready.”

Both of them knew there was another part to that sentence; neither of them was willing to give voice to it. Even so, the unspoken, the possibility that Adam might not come back, hung heavy in the air.

Eventually, Adam straightened, placing his free hand against his throat. “Kris?”

Kris smiled. It was like heaven, hearing Adam say his name. It always was, but this time was different. There was no furtiveness to it, no secrecy. “Yeah?”

“Can I take this off?”

Adam was referring to the collar, still wrapped tight across his throat.

“You can burn it if you want to.”

Adam nodded and reached behind his neck. He fumbled with the collar for several seconds before he finally huffed out a breath and said, “I can’t . . . can’t get it.”

Kris’ hands joined Adam’s, fingers touching feather soft against each other before moving to the clasp.

They did it together, opening the clasp, sliding the collar apart until it fell away from Adam’s throat.

Adam held it in his hand, stared at it for a very long time. Then he dropped it to the floor as if it were a live, poisonous snake.

“Kris . . . ”

Adam’s eyes were clear and bright. In them he saw fear and uncertainty. But he also saw hope. For the first time since he’d known Adam, he saw hope.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One month, one week and four days.

That was how long it had been since Kris had last seen or spoken to Adam.

Not that he was counting.

No, he was keeping busy, pouring himself into his job, decorating the apartment, going out with friends . . .

He was so busy that he didn’t have time to stop and think about Adam, or about how much he missed him.

And he was most definitely too busy to count down the days since he’d walked out the door.

He was in fact, busy now, sitting in his study, going through the documents for a new acquisition with a fine tooth comb, making sure that no small detail was missed.

It didn’t matter that it was 7:00 on a Friday night. It was busy work, and busy work kept him distracted, kept his mind off of Adam.

He flipped through another page of the document, eyes already growing tired from the strain of the small print, when he heard the doorbell ring.

“Can you get that, Allie?” he asked, loud enough so she could hear him.

“I’m on it!”

He set the papers down and concentrated on listening, wondering who would be here at this hour. The last thing he expected to hear was Allison’s shrill shriek sounding throughout the entire apartment.

For a moment he was worried, thoughts of brutal home invasions drifting through his head. But then he heard Allison laugh. Then he heard her shriek some more before she erupted into more laughter.

Curious, he stood up and walked into the living room.

And found himself face to face with Adam.

“Look who came over, sir!” Allison said, still laughing, her arms clasped around Adam’s waist tightly.

“Adam.”

Adam straightened, his arm still slung around Allison’s shoulders. He smiled easily, if a little shyly. “Hi, Kris.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming over?” Allison asked, giving him a mild, loving slap on his arm.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, staring at Kris even as he answered.

Allison took a step back, glancing between Adam and Kris. After a moment, she pulled out of Adam’s embrace with a grin. “So, why don’t I leave you two alone, huh? I bet you have a lot to talk about.”

And just like that, she was gone, all but running out of the room to parts unknown.

Kris felt rather than saw her go. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Adam. He was even more beautiful than he remembered. He was dressed casually, just jeans and black shirt, his hair even shorter than it had been after they’d gotten it cut. Kris narrowed his eyes, peering closer, unsure if what he was seeing was a trick of the light.

“Is that . . . ?”

Adam ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “Blue. Yeah. I put some color in it. Do you hate it?”

“No. Actually, it suits you.”

Adam smiled his thanks, then dropped his hand to his side, growing serious. “Can we talk?”

Kris nodded, steering them toward the couch where they sat next to each other. He waited, breath caught tight in his lungs until Adam spoke.

“Freedom’s been . . . a little overwhelming. You get used to being nothing. Nobody. And then suddenly you’re a person again. It was . . . um . . . harder than I thought.”

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

“No. Don’t be,” he said quickly. “You gave me a gift, Kris. The biggest one anyone’s ever given me. You gave me my life back.”

Kris wrapped his arms around his body and squeezed, hoping to keep the tears at bay. There was something about this that felt final. Something about this that felt like goodbye. “I just want you to be happy,” he managed to choke out. And it was mostly true. Mostly. Because what he really wanted was for Adam to be happy with him.

“I know. And here’s the weird part,” Adam said, taking a deep breath before leaning forward to continue. “I’m not happy.”

Kris hadn’t been expecting that. He frowned, concerned. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I miss you. I miss us.”

Kris heard himself gasp, felt the electricity race up his body at the words.

“You did this for me so I could be whole,” Adam said. “But I’m not whole without you.”

There wasn’t enough air in his lungs, his throat too tight, too constricted to speak, but somehow he managed to breathe out, “So what does this mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“I need to hear it. I need you to tell me. Please.”

Kris was shaking now, he could feel it but he couldn’t stop it. One month, one week and four days. That was how long he’d been mourning the loss of Adam. God, he’d been dead inside and he hadn’t even realized it.

“It means that I think I might be falling in love with you.”

Adam placed his hands on Kris’ thighs, running his fingers up and down the fabric of his jeans. “It means that I can’t bear the thought of spending any more of my life without you.”

He ran his hands up Kris’ arms, along his shoulders. “It means that you can keep the bad key.”

His hands stopped at Kris’ face, palm gentle against each cheek. Kris shivered in his hold, not moving, not breathing, afraid to do anything that would break the spell.

“It means that I’m home.”


End file.
